Fashion on fashion on fashion, (With only the truth growing old!) And here’s the new purple of passi… (And love waiting out in the cold) Who’ll buy?

It is not over yet-the fight Where those immortal dreamers fail… They stormed the citadels of night… And the night praised them-and pre… So long ago the cause was lost

The sunset lingered in the pale gr… In rosy wastes the low soft evenin… Woke; while the last white sea-mew… And tawny sails came stealing o’er… But, in the hillside cottage, thro…

Under an arch of glorious leaves… Out of the wood and saw the sickle… Floating in daylight o’er the pale… It was the quiet hour before the s… Gathers the clouds to prayer and s…

The man who discovered the use of… _Odds—bobs— What a wonderful man!_ He used to sit down on it, tearing… Till he thought of a highly origin…

If souls could sing to heaven’s hi… As blackbirds pipe on earth, How those delicious courts would r… With gusts of lovely mirth! What white-robed throng could lift…

Wonder in happy eyes Fades, fades away: And the angel-coloured skies Whisper farewell. Loveliness over the strings of the…

The forest of Alzuna hides a pool… Beside that pool, a shadowy tree u… High on that tree, a bough most be… Bends with the fragrant burden of… Among those flowers a nest is buri…

In the light of the silent stars t… In the weary cry of the wind and t… Under the breath of laughter, deep… I hear the Loom of the Weaver tha… The leaves of the winter wither an…

Hushed are the whimpering winds on… Dumb is the shrinking plain, And the songs that enchanted the w… As I shoot to the skies again! Does the blood grow black on my fi…

I tell you a tale to-night Which a seaman told to me, With eyes that gleamed in the lant… And a voice as low as the sea. You could almost hear the stars

(Written after hearing a line of… under the palms of Southern Calif… Under the palms of San Diego Where gold-skinned Mexicans loll… And the red half-moons of their bl…

Now, in a breath, we’ll burst thos… And ransack heaven before our mome… Now, in a breath, before we, too,… We’ll mount and sing and spread im… It is not time that makes eternity…

There came a crowder to the Merma… One dark May night, Fiddling a tune that quelled our m… With quaint delight, It haunts me yet, as old lost airs…

Trumpeter, sound for the last Cru… Sound for the fire of the red-cros… Sound for the passion, the splendo… That swept the world for a dead M… Sound, till the answering trumpet…