|John Bartlett (18201905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.|
|Sir William Watson. (18581935) (continued)|
| Deemest thou labor|
Only is earnest?
Grave is all beauty,
Solemn is joy.
| England my Mother. Part iv.|
| Empires dissolve and peoples disappear,|
Song passes not away.
| Lacrymae Musarum.|
| In this world with starry dome,|
Floored with gemlike plains and seas,
Shall I never feel at home,
Never wholly be at ease?
| On from room to room I stray,|
Yet mine Host can neer espy,
And I know not to this day,
Whether guest or captive I.
|Francis Thompson. (18591907)|
| I fear to love you, Sweet, because|
Loves the ambassador of loss.
| To Olivia.|
| The hills look over on the South,|
And Southward dreams the sea;
And with the sea-breeze hand in hand,
Came innocence and she.
| Little Jesus, wast Thou shy|
Once, and just so small as I?
And what did it feel to be
Out of Heaven and just like me?
| Ex Ore Infantum.|
| I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;|
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
| The Hound of Heaven.|