Once more torm is howling, and half hid

        Uhis cradle-hood and coverlid

        My cacle

        But Gregorys wood and one bare hill

        ack- and roof-levelling wind,

        Bred on tlantic,    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 uhe bridge, and scream

        In tream;

        Imagining ied reverie

        t ture years had e,

        Dang to a frenzied drum,

        Out of the sea.

        May sed beauty a not

        Beauty to make a strangers eye distraught,

        Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,

        Being made beautiful overmuch,

        sider beauty a suffit end,

        Lose natural kindness and maybe

        t-revealing intimacy

        t d 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 an.

        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 irely 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 ot 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 ces chief.

        If tred in a mind

        Assault and battery of the wind

        ever 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 uood

        For an old bellows full of angry wind?

        sidering t, all red driven hence,

        the soul recovers radical innoce

        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;

        Fand red are the wares

        Peddled in thhfares.

        in    and in ceremony

        Are innod beauty born?

        Ceremonys a name for the rich horn,

        And    for tree.
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