Say not “a small event!” Why “small”? Costs it more pain that this ye call A “great event” should come to pass From that? Untwine me from the mass Of deeds which make up life, one deed Power shall fall short in or exceed!
I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chatted all the way; But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow; And ne’er a word said she; But, oh! The things I learned from her, When Sorrow walked with me.
I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
All poetry is difficult to read – The sense of it anyhow.
If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.
What a thing friendship is – World without end.
Smiling the boy fell dead.
Pippa’s Song The year’s at the spring The day’s at the morn Morning’s at seven, The Hill side’s dew-pearled The lark’s on the wing The snail’s on the thorn God’s in his heaven- All’s right with the world.
Our interest’s on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.
What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name’s sake.
I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists.
Never brag, never bluster, never blush.
Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.
Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat.
How very hard it is to be a Christian!
Then welcome each rebuff That turns earth’s smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!
Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
Death was past, life not come: so he waited.
That we devote ourselves to God, is seen In living just as though no God there were.