One law of virtue should be planned
That all alike might understand
The simple rule, that right is right—
If I were King.
One Church should stand in God’s own sight
Where all who wished to worship, might,
Its ministers should be a band
Of soldiers with a purpose grand
To put all evil thoughts to flight,
If I were King.
WORLD, WIND, LEAVES AND SNOW
World.
Grey wind of the North! with thy burden so chill,
(Oh! for the blast and the blowing,)
Why flyest thou fast over river and rill,
Adown the deep valley and up the steep hill,
(Alas! for the storms that are sowing.)
Through gloom-spreading forest, bare meadow, bleak moor,
Above the sea-surges, along the sea shore,
O! whither, grey wind, art thou going?
Wind.
The corpse of my lover my arms do enfold,
(Oh! for the roar and the rattle.)
Whose beauty was rarer and fairer than gold,
Whose joys were bright jewels, unbought and unsold,
(Alas! for the fear-stricken cattle.)
And I chant in thine ear the sad dirge of the dead,
For the summer is slain and the winter so dread
Is hasting to offer thee battle.