I HAVE not yet I could have lov… Nor know I wherefore, thou being… The engrafted thought in me throve… And grew to summer strength in eve… Of root and leaf, but hath not bor…

“IS she sitting in the meadow Where the brook leaps to the mill, Leaning low against the poplar, Dreamily and still? Now, with joined hands, grave, now…

Not yet! I thought this time ’twas done at… the workings perfected, the life i… and there’s the flaw again, the pe… the fretting small impossibility

WHY did the star leave the sky, The far, pure sky? Shone she not high and hallowed an… Could she not tarry her life-time… Why must she fall and fade?

’TWAS yesterday; ’twas long ago: And for this flaunting grimy stree… And for this crowding to and fro, And thud and roar of wheels and fe… Were elm-trees and the linnet’s tr…

A YOUNG fair girl among her flo… And, as to blossoms born in May, Her morrows still brought sunnier… Than made up sunny yesterday. She did but wait: ‘Hope is so swe…

Oh the dear summer evening! How t… is mellow with the delicate breath… and wafts of hay scent from the su… how the glad song of life comes ev… from thousand harmless voices, fro…

She has made me wayside posies: he… Bringing fresh memories of where t… As new-come travellers from a worl… Wake every while some image of the… So these whose buds our woodland b…

‘OH, love me! love me!’ The sea-maid sings ori the pebbly… ‘Love me! oh, love me!’ The tears they gather, the tears r… She looks to the sea, she looks to…

The thrush that, yet alone, pipes… Knows she will come in time to bui… Knows she’ll be she his tiny soul… ’Tis love-time at the hawthorn blo… And the new flower-cups bare their…

Alas, I thought this forest must… And would not change because of my… I thought the growing things were… And not a mock; I thought at leas… Were honest and would keep that ha…

AH! swallows, is it so? Did loving lingering summer, whose… Tarried among late blossoms, loth… Gather the darkening cloud-wraps r… And weep herself away in last week…

If I should die this night, (as w… So pain has on my weakness worked… And they should come at morn and l… Lying more white than I am wont,… In the strong silence of unchangin…

WHAT is it that is dead? Somewhere there is a grave, and so… Cold in the ground, and stirs not… Nor songs that I can make, nor sm… Nor tenderest foolish words that…

‘AND when came I to this town?’… A question asked for the asking’s… Answered merely an answer to make, As stranger to stranger may; Answered enough with ‘Twas yester…