Worlds beyond worlds of sunset pageantry —
Wild West: the spirit with a yearning deep
Springs forth to thee! Like ripples are thy long
Low lines of violet cloud: all dreams, all hopes
Seem possible within these earthly bounds
Which heaven enrings and thy bright marge of light —
Set in cerulean circle, jewel-wise.

On the drench'd sands and shallow, windless sea,
On that one boat which rocks, with one bare mast,
At anchor, on a hundred naked groynes,
And on the desolate and sinking house,
With crumbling turrets facing towards the tide,
There falls, like stillness on the close of Time —
In soft and mournful mist — the sad, grey night.

Upon Candlemas day or the Purification — 1664

For a Child born the Custom was to bring
By th'Richer sort a Lambe for Offering
Two Turtle Doves the Poorer 'wont present
To ratefy the Voat of their Intent
Virgin why bringst thou with thee birds from nest
Is't not enough that Lambe lodgd in thy brest.

Text:l Labour not for the meat that Perisheth &c

Those Labour more for Plentious bords
And what this fraile short life affords
Than to attain at Spiritual foode
Which Everlasting Life makes good
But wash the moore which when they've don
Are stil but wher They first begun — at the signe of Labour in vaine.

A LONG comes Love,
In the semblance of a boy,
And he rings a little bell,
And he sings a little song:
Lo, the change thereof!
Heaven after hell,
Beauty healing wrong,
And grief turned joy!

At times, when, with an anguish all too keen,
The violin doth tensely tell of grief,
Tugging at heart-strings till the tale, I ween,
Is over-cruel, calls for some relief:
I joy to hear, like cooings of lost doves,
The grave viola plaining of old loves.

In Effigiem Innocentij Decimi nunc Papae — 1652

Father why Innocent? when most men know
Thy rules at best are th'Churches overthrow
For whilst St Peters Keyes the Heavns unlock
Thine shut the passages unto Christs flock
Of owld the Tenths were held the Clergies due
Soe th'Divel a Clarke may take his Tithe of you.

Children their parents', towers the city's pride,
Steeds grace the champain, ships the briny tide,
And wealth the splendid mansion; still more bright
Beams from that hallow'd dome the sacred light
Where monarchs sit, by awful heaven consign'd
To judge the various rights of humankind.

Revere the race whose hospitable dome
Yields to the houseless wanderer a home.
Cuma's high towers plac'd in the plains below,
Where proud Sardene lifts her woody brow,
Sacred to Jove where Hermus' waters flow;
O bear me to those walls, secure to find
The liberal heart, join'd to the prudent mind.

Castor and Pollux, tuneful Muse, now sing;
The offspring of the cloud-compelling king,
When on Taygetus' high-rising crest
The son of Saturn lovely Leda press'd.
Hail, ye Tyndaridae, well skill'd to train
The fiery courser for the' embattled plain.