Of Him all is, & unto Him also
Doth all return: torment & yearning woe
Surely shall pass, even as pleasures go.
Yea, all have end, beggar & bountied king,
Rapture & tears, resting & wandering.
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
| NO. | |
|---|---|
| When sunlight faileth | [1] |
| I called to fading day | [2] |
| O youth’s young cloudlet, O freshness free | [3] |
| Wend I, wander I, past all worlds that be | [4] |
| Eyes that o’er the landscape fly | [5] |
| O what availeth thee thy melting mood | [6] |
| All things born to break | [7] |
| If there be any power in passion’s prayer | [8] |
| In love’s great ocean, whose calm-shelter’d shore | [9] |
| When sorrow hath outsoar’d our nature’s clime | [10] |
| O gentle weariness | [11] |
| Peace, for whose presence we did erewhile call | [12] |
| Beauty is a waving tree | [13] |
| Wheresoever beauty flies | [14] |
| When first to earth thy gentle spirit came | [15] |
| For sake of these two splendours do the wise | [16] |
| She hath not beauty, that ill-fortun’d gem | [17] |
| When thou art gone, & when are gone all those | [18] |
| Play thou on men as on a harp’s string | [19] |
| Go, book: go, vessel laden with the mind | [20] |
| When the strong climber his last mountain-crest | [21] |
| Since neither man’s proud pomp & kingly name | [22] |
| Pureness of pale moon, loneness of far skies | [23] |
| After Hafez | |
| I saw fair Fortune, one clear morning, touch | [24] |
| Come let us drink & deeply drown | [25] |
| Once more, O happy hill & peaceful plain | [26] |
| Tell me not, mournful Preacher, that to prize | [27] |
| What madness ’twas, I know not, that thus enchanted me | [28] |
| She went.—O whither too, O one true love | [29] |
| I said, ‘O heavenly Leader, O truth’s day | [30] |
| Where is the pious doer? & I the estray’d one, where? | [31] |
| I said, ‘Thou knowest, O all-knowing Friend | [32] |
| My heart the chamber of His musing is | [33] |
| Fair is the leisure of life’s garden-ground | [34] |
| Thus spake at dawn to the fresh-open’d rose | [35] |
| Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still | [36] |
| Arise, O cup-bearer, & bring | [37] |
| Our toil is He, & eke our journey’s end | [38] |