ALONG the grass sweet airs are b… Our way this day in Spring. Of all the songs that we have know… Now which one shall we sing? Not that, my love, ah no!—

“I love you, sweet: how can you ev… How much I love you?” “You I lov… And so I learn it.” “Sweet, you c… How fair you are.” “If fair enoug… Your love, so much is all my love’…

SHE opened her moist crimson lips… And from her throat that is so whi… The notes leaped like a fountain.… Was o’er my heart: as when—a viol—… Having been broken—the first music…

WHAT of the end, Pandora? Was i… The deed that set these fiery pini… Ah! wherefore did the Olympian co… In its own likeness make thee half… Was it that Juno’s brow might sta…

Is Memory most of miseries misera… Or the one flower of ease in bitte…

Sweet twining hedgeflowers wind—st… On this June day; and hand that c… Still glades; and meeting faces sc… An osier—odoured stream that draws… Deep to its heart; and mirrored ey…

Lazy laughing languid Jenny, Fond of a kiss and fond of a guine… Whose head upon my knee to—night Rests for a while, as if grown lig… With all our dances and the sound

In France (to baffle thieves and… A journey takes two days of passpo… At least. The plan’s sometimes a… But bears its fruit. Because, the… In passing by the Morgue, we saw…

'When that dead face, bowered in t… Which once was all the life years… Can now scarce bid the tides of me… Cast on thy soul a little spray of… How canst thou gaze into these eye…

SAY, is it day, is it dusk in thy… Thou whom I long for, who longest… Oh! be it light, be it night, 'tis… Love’s that is fettered as Love’s… Free love has leaped to that inner…

WOULD God your health were as t… Should be, were this not England,… Abroad, to give the gracious sunsh… And laugh beneath the budding hawt… But here the hedgerows pine from g…

Those envied places which do know… And are so scornful of this lonely… Even now for once are emptied of h… Nowhere but here she is: and while… From his predominant presence doth…

The ark of the Lord of Hosts Whose name is called by the name o… Who dwelleth between the Cherubim… O Thou that in no house dost dwel… But walk’st in tent and tabernacle…

Sweet dimness of her loosened hair… About thy face; her sweet hands ro… In gracious fostering union garlan… Her tremulous smiles; her glances’… Of love; her murmuring sighs memor…

“SORDELLO’S story,” the Sphin… “Who would has heard.” Is that en… 'Twere not amiss to add, has under… Who understood perhaps has profite… For my part I could tell a tale i…