Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet!
Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
Sleep full of rest from head to feet;

Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.

To J. S.

More black than ash-buds in the front of March.
The Gardener's Daughter.

Of love that never found his earthly close,
What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts;
Or all the same as if he had not been?

The long mechanic pacings to and fro,
The set, gray life, and apathetic end.

Love and Duty.

Ah, when shall all men's good
Be each man's rule, and universal peace
Lie like a shaft of light across the land,
And like a lane of beams athwart the sea,
Thro' all the circle of the golden year?

I am a part of all that I have met.1

Ibid.

The Golden Year.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use,
As tho' to breathe were life!

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles whom we knew.
Here at the quiet limit of the world.

Ulysses.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Tithonus.

In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd

dove;

In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to

thoughts of love.

Locksley Hall. Line 19.

Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the

chords with might;

Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music

out of sight.

1 See Byron, page 543.

-Line 33.

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force,

Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his

horse.

Locksley Hall. Line 49.

This is truth the poet sings,

That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier

things.1

Like a dog, he hunts in dreams.

Line 75.

Line 79

With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daugh

ter's heart.

Line 94.

But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that

Honour feels.

Line 105.

Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new.

Line 117.

Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing pur

pose runs,

And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process

of the suns.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.

Line 137

Line 141.

I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky

race.

Line 168.

I, the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.

Line 178.

Let the great world spin forever down the ringing grooves of change.

Line 182.

Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.

I waited for the train at Coventry;

I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge,
To watch the three tall spires; and there I shaped
The city's ancient legend into this.

Line 184.

Godiva

1 See Longfellow, page 618.

For now the poet cannot die,

Nor leave his music as of old,

But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.

Το —, after reading a Life and Letters. But oh for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break.

But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

Ibid.

The Brook.

Mastering the lawless science of our law,

That codeless myriad of precedent,

That wilderness of single instances. Aylmer's Field.

Rich in saving common-sense,

And, as the greatest only are,

In his simplicity sublime.

Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4.

Oh good gray head which all men knew!

Ibid

That tower of strength

Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.
Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4.
For this is England's greatest son,
He that gain'd a hundred fights,

And never lost an English gun.

Stanza 6

The path of duty was the way to glory.

Not once or twice in our rough-island story

Stanza 3.

That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of

lies;

That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright;

But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to

fight.

The Grandmother. Stanza 8.

O Love! what hours were thine and mine,
In lands of palm and southern pine;

In lands of palm, of orange-blossom,
Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!

The Daisy. Stanza 1.

1 Jaws of death. — SHAKESPEARE: Twelfth Night, act ii. sc. 4. Da

BARTAS: Weekes and Workes, day i. part 4.

So dear a life your arms enfold,
Whose crying is a cry for gold.

Read my little fable:

The Daisy. Stanza 24.

He that runs may read.1
Most can raise the flowers now,

For all have got the seed.

The Flower.

In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.
Idylls of the King. Dedication.

It is the little rift within the lute

That by and by will make the music mute,
And ever widening slowly silence all.

Ibid. Merlin and Vivien.

His honour rooted in dishonour stood,
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.

Ibid. Launcelot and Elaine.

The old order changeth, yielding place to new;
And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

I am going a long way

With these thou seëst - if indeed I go

The Passing of Arthur.

(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)

To the island-valley of Avilion,

Where falls not hail or rain or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea,
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans,
And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair.

Ibid.

The Princess. Prologue. Line 141.

A rosebud set with little wilful thorns,
And sweet as English air could make her, she.

1 See Cowper, page 422.

Part i. Line 153