Here, where the vine and fig bask… And the hot lizard lies along the… Blinded I shrink where cypress sh… And gaze upon the far-off mountain… Then down the dusty track Lorenzo…

Nay, bring forth none but daughter… The doubles of yourself; with face… Bearing as candid, gait as debonai… And voice as deeply, musically str… That the less fortunate age, from…

Bend down and read-the birth, the… Born in the year that Waterloo wa… And died in this, whose days are n… But which, because a year conceive… No noble need will christen or wil…

Although no stupid scoffer, I Am wholly at a loss To apprehend the reason why You kiss Lorenzo’s Cross. For though indeed a hundred days’

Go talk to her, sweet flower, To whom I fain would talk Tell her I hour by hour Pine on my own poor stalk. Tell her that I should live

I never saw you, never grasped you… Nor wrote nor read lines absence l… Ne’er with you sate in your accust… Nor waited for your coming on sea… But this I know, if along unseen…

The first wild rose in wayside hed… This year I wandering see, I pluck, and send it as a pledge, My own Wild Rose, to Thee. For when my gaze first met thy gaz…

Now let no passing-bell be tolled, Wail now no dirge of gloom; Nor around purple pall unfold The trappings of the tomb! Dead? No, the Artist doth not die…

HE. Halt here awhile. That mossy-cush… Is for your queenliness a natural… As I am fitly couched on this low… Here at your feet.

Primroses, why do you pass away? Primroses Nay, rather, why should we longer… We are not needed, now stooping sh… Have sandalled the feet of May wi…

‘If you were mine, if you were min… The day would dawn, the stars woul… The sun would set, the moon arise, In holier and yet heavenlier skies… Then unto me the Year would bring

Because I failed, shall I asperse… With scorn or doubt, my failure to… ‘Gainst arduous Truth my feeble f… Like that worst foe, a vain splene… Deem’st thou, self-amorous fool, t…

Give me October’s meditative haze… Its gossamer mornings, dewy-wimple… Dewy and fragrant, fragrant and se… The long slow sound of farmward-we… When homely Love sups quiet ‘mid…

So you think he is defeated, O ye… And that Victory is meted in your… O ye fools! though justice tarry,… Right, howe’er it may miscarry, er… And you think a wounded hero may h…

‘Why, on this drear December morn… Dost thou, lone Misselthrush, reh… The corals have been rifled from t… The pastures lie undenizened and l… And everywhere around there seems…