We traveled in the print of olden wares
Yet all the land was green,
And love we found, and peace,
Where fire and war had been.

They pass and smile, the children of the sword
No more the sword they wield;
And O, how deep the corn
Along the battlefield!

The bed was made, the room was fit,
By punctual eve the stars were lit;
The air was still, the water ran,
No need was there for maid or man,
When we put up, my ass and I,
At God's green caravaserai.

With half a heart I wander here
As from an age gone by
A brother-yet though young in years,
An elder brother, I.

You speak another tongue than mine
Though both were English born.
I towards the night of time decline,
You mount into the morn.

Youth shall grow great and strong and free,
But age must still decay:
To-morrow for the States-for me,
England and Yesterday.
SAN FRANCISCO

Here all is sunny, and when the truant
gull
Sims the green level of the lawn, hi
wing
Dispetals roses; here all house is
framed
Of kneaded brick and the plumed mountain
pine,
Such clay as artists fashion and such
wood
As the tree-climbing urchin breaks.
But there
Eternal granite hewn from the living
isle
And dowelled with brute iron, rears a
tower
That from its wet foundation to its
crown.
Of glittering glass, stands, in the sweep
of winds,
Immovable, immortal, eminent.

(with a hand glass)

A PICTURE-FRAME for you to fill,
A paltry setting for your face,
A thing that has no worth until
You lend it something at your grace.

I send (unhappy I that sing
Laid by awhile upon the shelf)
Because I would not send a thing
Less charming than you are yourself.

And happier then I, alas!
(Dumb thing, I envy its delight)
T will wish you well, the looking glass,
And look you in the face to-night.

For love of lovely words and for the
sake
Of those, my kinsmen and my country-
men
Who early and late in the windy ocean
toiled
To plant a star for seamen, where was
then
The surfy haunt of seals and cormo-
rants:
I, on the lintel of this cot, inscribe
The name of a strong tower.

Child-
O Mother, lay your hand on my brow!
O Mother, mother, where am I now?
Why is the room so gaunt and great?
Why am I lying awake so late?

Mother-
Fear not at all: the night is still.
Nothing is hear that means you ill-
Nothing but lamps the whole lawn through,
And never a child awake but you.

Child-
Mother, mother, speak low in my ear,
Some of the thing are so great and near,
Some are so small and far away,
I have a fear that i cannot say.
What have I done, and what do I fear,
And why are you crying, mother dear?

Mother-
Out in the city, sounds begin,
Thank the kind God, the carts come in!
An hour or two more and God is so kind,
The day shall be blue in the window blind,
Then shall my child go sweetly asleep,
And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep.

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:

Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

A naked house, a naked moor,
A shivering pool before the door,
A garden base of flowers and fruit
And poplars at the garden foot:
Such is the place that I live in,
Beak without and bare within.

Yet shall your ragged moor receive
The incomparable pomp of eve,
And the cold glories of the down
Behind your shivering trees be drawn;
And when the wind from place to place
Doth the unmoored cloud-galleons chase,
Your garden gloom and gleam again,
With leaping sun, with glancing rain.
Here shall the wizard moon ascend
The heavens, in the crimson end
Of day's declining splendour; here
The army of the stars appear,
The neighbour hollows dry or wet,
Spring shall with tender flowers beset;
And oft the morning muser see
Larks rising from the broomy lea,
And every fairy wheel and thread
Of cobweb dew-diamonded
When daisies go, shall winter time
Silver the simple grass with rime;
Autumnal frosts enchant the pool
And when snow-bright the moor ponds,
How shall your children clap their hands!
To make this earth, our hermitage,
A cheerful and a changeful page,
God's bright and intricate device
Of days and seasons doth suffice.

We see you as we see a face
That trembles in a forest place
Upon the mirror of a pool
Forever quiet, clear and cool;
And in the wayward glass, appears
To hover between smiles and tears,
Elfin and human, airy and true,
And backed by the reflected blue.

Far from the laud sea beaches
Where he goes fishing and crying
Here in the inland garden
Why is the sea-gull flying?


Here are no fish to dive for;
Here is the corn and lea;
Here are the green trees rusting
Hie away home to sea!


Fresh is river water
And quiet among the rushes;
This is no home for the sea-gull
But for the rooks and thrushes.


Pity the bird that has wandered
Pity the sailor ashore!
Hurry him home to the ocean,
Let him come here no more!


High on the sea-cliff ledges
The white gulls are trooping and crying,
Here among rooks and roses,
Why is the sea-gull flying?