spire

Would, at suggestion of a steep desire,

Cast himself from the spire

Of all his happiness? But soft: I hear

Toward the summer isle

Where bamboos spire to shafted grove

And wide-mouthed orchids smile.

Forth riding, while as yet the day

Was dewy, watching Sarum Spire,

Still beckoning me along my way,

And comfortable, with a view

Of Salisbury Spire between the boughs.

When she had shown me through the house,

And breathed the sunny wind that rose

And blew the shadows o’er the Spire,

And toss’d the lilac’s scented plumes,

Is the still-seated secret of the grove,

Nor spire may rise nor bell be heard therefrom.

Clear to the forest of pine and beech at the meadow's end.

A robin on the tip of a poplar's spire

Sings to the sinking sun and the evening planet.

Till it broke and the blood shot up like fire

In tower and spire.