On seeing her smile repeated in he… A thousand songs I might have mad… Of You, and only You; A thousand thousand tongues of fir… That trembled down a golden wire

Down in the street the last late h… Still westward, but with backward… The harlot shuffles to her lonely… The tall policeman pauses but to t… A flash into the empty portico;

OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOS… A CHAPLET OF VERSE You and I and Burd so blithe’€” Burd so blithe, and you, and I’€” The Mower he would whet his scyth…

Friend, old friend in the Manse b… Hour by hour while the grey ash dr… You with a book on your knee, your… Silent both, and between you, sile… Silent here in the south sit I; a…

When as abroad, to greet the morn, I mark my Graciosa walk, In homage bends the whisp’ring cor… Yet to confess Its awkwardness

By the late W. W. (of H.M. Inla… And is it so? Can Folly stalk And aim her unrespecting darts In shades where grave Professors… And Bachelors of Arts?

Be aisy an’ list to a chune That’s sung of bowld Tim the Drag… Sure, ’twas he’d niver miss To be stalin’ a kiss, Or a brace, by the light of the mo…

A month ago Lysander pray’d To Jove, to Cupid, and to Venus, That he might die if he betray’d A single vow that pass’d between u… Ah, careless gods, to hear so ill

Small is my secret—let it pass— Small in your life the share I ha… Who sat beside you in the class, Awed by the bright superior lad: Whom yet with hot and eager face

Here in the fairway Fetching—foul of keel, Long-stray but fortunate— Out of the fogs, the vast Atlantic solitudes.

O waly, waly, my bonnie crew Gin ye maun bumpit be! And waly, waly, my Stroke sae tru… Ye leuk unpleasauntlie! O hae ye suppit the sad sherrie

E. W. B. Archbishop of Canterbury: sometim… of Truro. October 1896 The Church’s outpost on a neck of… By ebb of faith the foremost left…

After W. M. P. Dear Kitty, At length the term’s ending; I 'm in for my Schools in a week; And the time that at present I’m…

Rudiments, Rudiments, and Rudimen… ‘Thinketh one made them i’ the fit… ‘Thinketh one made them with the ’… But not the answers; 'doubteth the… Only Guides, Helps, Analyses, su…

Tune—Luther’s Chorale ‘Ein’ feste burg ist unser Gott’ Of old our City hath renown. Of God are her foundations, Wherein this day a King we crown