A near the dying of that royal day Those amber-vested hills began to… And soon a lofty Pharos, gleaming… Upon its isle set darkly in the li… Beckoned us onward to the spacious…

Who has a thing to bring For a gift to our lord the king, Our king all kings above? A young girl brought him love; And he dowered her with shame,

(AN VERY IDLE IDYLL B… This is the Heath of Hampstead, This is the Dome of Saint Paul’s… Beneath, on the serried house-tops… A chequered luster falls:

THROUGH foulest fogs of my own… Through midnight glooms of all the… Through sulphurous cannon-clouds t… Above the steam of blood in anger… Through all the sombre earth-oppre…

O antique fables! beautiful and br… And joyous with the joyous youth o… O antique fables! for a little lig… Of that which shineth in you everm… To cleanse the dimness from our we…

WHAT would you have? said I; ’Tis so easy to go and die, ’Tis so hard to stay and live, In this alien peace and this comfo… Where only the murderers get the g…

Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall, Sunday evening—date to fix— Fifteenth April, sixty-six, Speech reported and redacted By a fellow much distracted.

Their eyes met; flashed an instant… That leapt unparring to each other… Jarring convulsion through the inm… Then fell, for they had fully done… She, in the manner of her folk unv…

Sleepless himself to give to other… He giveth His beloved sleep. I HEARD the sounding of the mid… The others one by one had left the… In calm assurance that the graciou…

That one long dirge-moan sad and d… Low, muffled by the solemn stress Of such emotion as doth steep The soul in brooding quietness, Befits our anguished time too well…

The wine of Love is music, And the feast of Love is song: And when Love sits down to the ba… Love sits long: Sits long and arises drunken,

WHAT are these leaves dark-spott… ‘A very holy herb.’ To what good use may I this herb… 'Press it on thy soul’s hurt.’ When herb unto the hurt I thus ap…

To Alice and Hypatia Bradlaugh Who was Lilah? I am sure She was young and sweet and pure; With the forehead wise men love,- Here a lucid dawn above

Once in a saintly passion I cried with desperate grief, “O Lord, my heart is black with g… Of sinners I am chief.” Then stooped my guardian angel

He cried out through the night: “Where is the light? Shall nevermore Open Heaven’s door? Oh, I am left