I'll sing of Spring's farewell, sir.
For every season steals an air,
Which has a Springtime smell, sir.
But if upon the other side,
With passionate longing burning,
Will seek the half unjeweled tide,
And sing of Spring's returning.
FROM THE PORCH AT RUNNYMEDE
I stand above the city's rush and din,
And gaze far down with calm and undimmed eyes,