And have you been to Borderland?
Its country lies on either hand
Beyond the river I-forget.
read more

And have you been to Borderland?
Its country lies on either hand
Beyond the river I-forget.
One crosses by a single stone
So narrow one must pass alone,
And all about its waters fret--
The laughing river I-forget.

To the sick man the physician when he enters seems to have three
faces, those of a man, a read more

To the sick man the physician when he enters seems to have three
faces, those of a man, a devil, a god. When the physician first
comes and announces the safety of the patient, then the sick man
says: "Behold a God or a guardian angel!"
[Lat., Intrantis medici facies tres esse videntur
Aegrotanti; hominis, Daemonis, atque Dei.
Cum primum accessit medicus dixitque salutem,
En Deus aut custos angelus, aeger ait.]

But my thoughts ran a wool-gathering; and I did like the
countryman, who looked for his ass while he read more

But my thoughts ran a wool-gathering; and I did like the
countryman, who looked for his ass while he was mounted on his
back.

God and I both knew what it meant once; now God alone knows.

God and I both knew what it meant once; now God alone knows.

God and the Doctor we alike adore
But only when in danger, not before;
The danger o'er, read more

God and the Doctor we alike adore
But only when in danger, not before;
The danger o'er, both are alike requited,
God is forgotten, and the Doctor slighted.

The wind blows out, the bubble dies;
The spring entomb'd in autumn lies;
The dew dries up; read more

The wind blows out, the bubble dies;
The spring entomb'd in autumn lies;
The dew dries up; the star is shot;
The flight is past--and man forgot.

The pyramids themselves, doting with age, have forgotten the
names of their founders.

The pyramids themselves, doting with age, have forgotten the
names of their founders.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
read more

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
Agayne I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tyde and made my paynes his prey.

We bury love,
Forgetfulness grows over it like grass;
That is a thing to weep for, not read more

We bury love,
Forgetfulness grows over it like grass;
That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.