IT’S copied out at last: very poo… Writ in the cold, with pauses of t… Direct, dear William, to the Post… At Ghent—here written Gand—Gong,… We go to Antwerp first, but shall…

A Sonnet is a moment’s monument, Memorial from the Soul’s eternity To one dead deathless hour. Look… Whether for lustral rite or dire p… Of its own arduous fulness reveren…

DUSK—HAIRED and gold—robed o’… She stoops, wherein, distilled of… Sink the black drops; while, lit w… Round her spread board the golden… Doth Helios here with Hecaté comb…

Even as a child, of sorrow that we… The dead, but little in his heart… Since without need of thought to h… Their turn it is to die and his to… Even so the winged New Love smile…

This feast—day of the sun, his alt… In the broad west has blazed for v… And I have loitered in the vale t… And gaze now a belated worshipper. Yet may I not forget that I was '…

A little while a little love The hour yet bears for thee and me Who have not drawn the veil to see If still our heaven be lit above. Thou merely, at the day’s last sig…

THE wounded hart and the dying sw… Were side by side Where the rushes coil with the tur… The hart and the swan. AS much as in a hundred years, sh…

Get thee behind me. Even as, heav… Stooping against the wind, a chari… Is snatched from out his chariot b… So shall Time be; and as the void… Abroad by reinless steeds, even so…

Consider the sea’s listless chime; Time’s self it is, made audible — The murmur of the earth’s own shel… Secret continuance sublime Is the sea’s end: our sight may pa…

Even as the moon grows queenlier i… When the sky darkens, and her clou… Thrills with intenser radiance fro… So lambent, lady, beams thy sovere… When the drear soul desires thee.…

Have you not noted, in some family Where two were born of a first mar… How still they own their gracious… And nursed on the forgotten breast… How to their father’s children the…

“Sister,” said busy Amelotte To listless Aloÿse; “Along your wedding—road the wheat Bends as to hear your horse’s feet… And the noonday stands still for h…

First Snow, February WOOLNER, to—night it snows for… Our feet know well the path where… Mine leave one track: how all the… Are hoary in the long—unwonted rim…

Of her two fights with the Beryl—… Lost the first, but the second won… “MARY mine that art Mary’s Rose Come in to me from the garden—clos… The sun sinks fast with the rising…

AT length the then of my long hop… Yet had my spirit an extreme unres… I knew the good from better was gr… At length, but could not just as y… So I lay straight along, and thru…