Apollo and Marsyas, and Other Poems

The contest of the Satyr with the God, Oh who shall end it? Who shall end the strife That fills all Art, all Nature and all Life, And give the right of flaying with a nod?

What she seeks is not in phials Nor in jars, but in a book; And she mutters as she searches Through the book-shelves with a kind of Brooding hurry in her look;

And he lashed, and he left his companion behind And sped furiously on all alone, With the sinister shadow the moon had designed Flitting on just in front of him, vaguely defined...

The Districts muster for the August race, And take their glossy racers to be blessed, Each in its own rich church, where, held in trace Of gold, the startled barb with hoof-step...

And--O mean beast, Mean coward that I was!--I dared not face The sight of Strongclyffe; but I fled the place, Leaving a letter; and in guilt and fear, Just like a thief, stole b...

Prometheus--none may see him. But at night When heaven’s bolt has made some forest flare On Caucasus, and when the broad red glare Rushing from crag to crag at infinite height S...