Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke-stack Butting through the Channel in the mad March days With a cargo of Tyne coal, Road rails, pig-lead, Firewood, ironware, and cheap tin trays. 142 The Old Ships John Masefield. I HAVE seen old ships sail like swans asleep That rings black Cyprus with a lake of fire; Hell-raked them till they roll'd Blood, water, fruit and corpses up the hold. But I have seen Pointing her shapely shadows from the dawn A drowsy ship of some yet older day; And, wonder's breath indrawn, Thought I-who knows-who knows—but in that same (Fish'd up beyond Ææa, patch'd up new -Stern painted brighter blue—) That talkative, bald-headed seaman came (Twelve patient comrades sweating at the oar) From Troy's doom-crimson shore, that talkative seaman] Ulysses. And with great lies about his wooden horse It was so old a ship-who knows, who knows? 143* Flecker. THE world is too much with us; late and soon, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! а 0228 C C d 144 Song Wordsworth. I RARELY, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night ? 'Tis since thou art fled away. II How shall ever one like me With the joyous and the free Spirit false thou hast forgot All but those who need thee not. III As a lizard with the shade Of a trembling leaf, Thou with sorrow art dismay'd; Even the sighs of grief Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear. IV Let me set my mournful ditty Thou wilt come for pleasure; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. V I love all that thou lovest, Spirit of Delight! The fresh Earth in new leaves dress'd, And the starry night; Autumn evening, and the morn VI I love snow, and all the forms Of the radiant frost ; 145* I love waves, and winds, and storms, Everything almost Which is Nature's, and may be VII I love tranquil solitude, As is quiet, wise, and good ; Between thee and me What difference? but thou dost possess VIII I love Love-though he has wings, And like light can flee, Spirit, I love thee Thou art love and life! Oh, come, Make once more my heart thy home. Music I Shelley. I PANT for the music which is divine, I gasp, I faint, till they wake again. II Let me drink of the spirit of that sweet sound, It loosens the serpent which care has bound O WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill : Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; II Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread On the blue surface of thine aëry surge, shook] shaken. |