Once more torm is howling, and half hid

    Under this cradle-hood and coverlid

    My cacle

    But Gregorys wood and one bare hill

    ack- and roof-levelling wind,

    Bred on tlantic, can be stayed;

    And for an hour I have walked and prayed

    Because of t gloom t is in my mind.

    I his young child an hour

    And ower,

    And under the bridge, and scream

    In tream;

    Imagining in excited reverie

    t ture years had come,

    Dancing to a frenzied drum,

    Out of the sea.

    May sed beauty and yet not

    Beauty to make a strangers eye distraught,

    Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,

    Being made beautiful overmuch,

    Consider beauty a sufficient end,

    Lose natural kindness and maybe

    t-revealing intimacy

    t c, and never find a friend.

    and dull

    And later rouble from a fool,

    great Queen, t rose out of the spray,

    Being fatherless could have her way

    Yet ch for man.

    Its certain t fine

    A crazy salad

    y is undone.

    In courtesy Id have her chiefly learned;

    s are not  but s are earned

    By t are not entirely beautiful;

    Yet many, t he fool

    For beautys very self, has charm made wise,

    And many a poor man t has roved,

    Loved and t himself beloved,

    From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

    May sree

    t all s may like t be,

    And  dispensing round

    ties of sound,

    Nor but in merriment begin a chase,

    Nor but in merriment a quarrel.

    O may she live like some green laurel

    Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

    My mind, because t I have loved,

    t of beauty t I have approved,

    Prosper but little, e,

    Yet kno to be ce

    May well be of all evil chances chief.

    If tred in a mind

    Assault and battery of the wind

    Can never tear t from the leaf.

    An intellectual red is t,

    So let hink opinions are accursed.

    seen t woman born

    Out of tys horn,

    Because of ed mind

    Barter t horn and every good

    By quiet natures understood

    For an old bellows full of angry wind?

    Considering t, all red driven hence,

    the soul recovers radical innocence

    And learns at last t it is self-delighting,

    Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,

    And t its o will is heavens will;

    Shough every face should scowl

    And every er howl

    Or every bello, be ill.

    And may o a house

    omed, ceremonious;

    For arrogance and red are the wares

    Peddled in thoroughfares.

    in custom and in ceremony

    Are innocence and beauty born?

    Ceremonys a name for the rich horn,

    And custom for tree.