Soaring like a new-grown bird
That flutters high and swoops away,
So my heart doth shyly fly and flay
Innocent to harsh blows or words;
As the sea doth rise and swell,
With halcyon bays masking shadowy depths,
So my heart’s lightness is beset
With an ache rolling like a tolling bell;
May I yet find content at last,
With distress, misery, left it the past?

Nights, when I don't see you
trailing in stars
or by the light of moon
however bright
blackness takes my sight
a shooting star - I fall
back to everything
and nothing
at all

Shadows of the moon
Draw crests of night from noon
With whispers on the waves,
Our ship is leaving soon

Shadows on the sky
Wake light whose rifts will cry
From distant dreams we crave,
Our pasts have said goodbye

I've left the shores behind
Waged wars inside my mind
And now tonight I'll glide
Into the shadows of the moon

Shadows of the moon,
Dawn black on midnight's croon
With eyes set towards the sea
Our ship has sailed too soon...

Shadow breaks to wave
Wind's weight could crush the brave
Though squalls rip you and me,
This broken world we'll save

I've left the storm inside,
Old patterns I've defied,
And now my blade's refined
With the shadows of the moon

I dwell alone,--I dwell alone, alone,
Whilst full my river flows down to the sea,
  Gilded with flashing boats
    That bring no friend to me:
O love-songs, gurgling from a hundred throats,
    O love-pangs, let me be.

Fair fall the freighted boats which gold and stone
    And spices bear to sea:
Slim, gleaming maidens swell their mellow notes,
    Love-promising, entreating,--
    Ah! sweet, but fleeting,--
  Beneath the shivering, snow-white sails.
  Hush! the wind flags and fails,--
Hush! they will lie becalmed in sight of strand,--
  Sight of my strand, where I do dwell alone;
Their songs wake singing echoes in my land,--
  They cannot hear me moan.

  One latest, solitary swallow flies
    Across the sea, rough autumn-tempest tost,
    Poor bird, shall it be lost?
  Dropped down into this uncongenial sea,
        With no kind eyes
        To watch it while it dies,
      Unguessed, uncared for, free:
        Set free at last,
        The short pang past,
In sleep, in death, in dreamless sleep locked fast.

Mine avenue is all a growth of oaks,
      Some rent by thunder-strokes,
Some rustling leaves and acorns in the breeze:
      Fair fall my fertile trees,
That rear their goodly heads, and live at ease.

A spider's web blocks all mine avenue;
  He catches down and foolish painted flies,
      That spider wary and wise.
Each morn it hangs a rainbow strung with dew
  Betwixt boughs green with sap,
  So fair, few creatures guess it is a trap:
      I will not mar the web,
Though sad I am to see the small lives ebb.

It shakes,--my trees shake; for a wind is roused
      In cavern where it housed:
      Each white and quivering sail,
      Of boats among the water leaves
Hollows and strains in the full-throated gale:
      Each maiden sings again,--
Each languid maiden, whom the calm
Had lulled to sleep with rest and spice and balm,
      Miles down my river to the sea
        They float and wane,
      Long miles away from me.
      Perhaps they say: "She grieves,
        Uplifted, like a beacon, on her tower."
        Perhaps they say: "One hour
More, and we dance among the golden sheaves."
        Perhaps they say: "One hour
          More, and we stand,
          Face to face, hand in hand;
Make haste, O slack gale, to the looked-for land!"

        My trees are not in flower,
        I have no bower,
        And gusty creaks my tower,
And lonesome, very lonesome, is my strand.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old Dog
  Who wags his tail a-begging in his need:
Despise not even the sorrows of a Frog,
  God's creature too, and that's enough to plead:
Spare **** who trusts us purring on our hearth:
  Spare Bunny once so frisky and so free:
Spare all the harmless tenants of the earth:
  Spare, and be spared:--or who shall plead for thee?

Live all thy sweet life through
  Sweet Rose, dew-sprent,
Drop down thine evening dew
To gather it anew
When day is bright:
  I fancy thou wast meant
Chiefly to give delight.

Sing in the silent sky,
  Glad soaring bird;
Sing out thy notes on high
To sunbeam straying by
Or passing cloud;
  Heedless if thou art heard
Sing thy full song aloud.

O that it were with me
  As with the flower;
Blooming on its own tree
For butterfly and bee
Its summer morns:
  That I might bloom mine hour
A rose in spite of thorns.

O that my work were done
  As birds' that soar
Rejoicing in the sun:
That when my time is run
And daylight too,
  I so might rest once more
Cool with refreshing dew.