William Ernest Henley

"The Past was goodly once, and yet, when all is said,     The best of it we know is that it's done and dead.     Dwindled and faded quite, peris"

"Where are the passions they essayed,     And where the tears they made to flow?     Where the wild humours they portrayed     For laughing worl"

"In the year that's come and gone, love, his flying feather     Stooping slowly, gave us heart, and bade us walk together.     In the year that's"

"There is a wheel inside my head     Of wantonness and wine,     An old, cracked fiddle is begging without,     But the wind with scents of the"

"I watched you saunter down the sand:     Serene and large, the golden weather     Flowed radiant round your peacock feather,     And glistered"

"Gulls in an aery morrice     Gleam and vanish and gleam . . .     The full sea, sleepily basking,     Dreams under skies of dream.     Gulls"

"The wan sun westers, faint and slow;     The eastern distance glimmers gray;     An eerie haze comes creeping low     Across the little, lonely"

"(To J. A. C.)     Fresh from his fastnesses     Wholesome and spacious,     The north wind, the mad huntsman,     Halloos on his white hou"

"Lived on one's back,     In the long hours of repose,     Life is a practical nightmare -     Hideous asleep or awake.     Shoulders and loin"

"There's never a delicate nurseling of the year     But our huge LONDON hails it, and delights     To wear it on her breast or at her ear,     H"