«I am awake... A coffin-lid... I strain / To lift my hands from it in violent shaking. / I cry for help. I call to mind the pain / That I endured at death, — but now I’m waking! / Like cobwebs, easily the lid unrolled / I push aside, and leave my house of mould. I stand, — all blinde...»
«Behold it once again, the old familiar place, / Wherein my fathers passed their barren, vacant days! / In muddy revels ran their lives, in witless bragging, / In little bullying ways, in gluttonies unflagging; / The swarm of shivering serfs in their oppression found / An enviable thing the...»
«It grows late Autumn, and the rooks are flown; / The woods are bare; all empty stands the plain; / One field is yet unreaped, one field alone. / It sets me musing in a mournful train. Surely these cornstalks whisper one to the other: / “This Autumn wind, it has a weary sound; / And wear...»
«Do you not see. Beloved? / All that about us lies / Is but the shade, the mirrored image / Of things not seen with eyes. Do you not hear. Beloved? / The sounds that to earth belong / Are but the muffled and broken echo / Of a noble triumph-song. Do you not feel, Beloved? / Our joy th...»