I built a house, four perfect wall… To hold the landly roof, whose she… Did tempt the darting swallows fro… To nest and stay all loth and late… Wide windows, planned to hold the…

Lighted by the lady moon, Breezes blow and aspens quiver, By the stream’s enchanted tune Singing to the distant river, Walks Cecilia.

A miller’s daughter, as I heard t… Sing heigh! but the maid was merry… Was loved by her father’s man full… His cheek was brown as a berry. He made the grey mare fast to her…

Here a gentle poet lies, Hurt to death by stinging flies. Hush thy laughter, whisper low. He hath more joy in the swift flig… Of some shy star that flew the nig…

A CHILD’S SONG There sits a piper on the hill Who pipes the livelong day, And when he pipes both loud and sh… The frightened people say

Up in the cave of the wind, All bent and crabbed with their ye… In endless chatter they sit, Old Distaff, Spindle, and Shears… And they caught a mother’s song

‘Lo! I am athirst,’ said the brow… ‘And I would drink my fill.’ ‘Have I not slaked thee,’ cried t… ‘From river, stream, and rill?’ ‘I would have wine,’ said the hot…

Last night a hand on my window tap… A voice came out of the sea, ‘Awake, awake, thou dreamer, wake, And open thy door to me!’ What music this that so long was s…

And so goodbye, my love, my dear,… E’en thus from my sad heart go hen… I cast thee out, renounce, and hol… I wreck the cup of joy thou heldes… To my lips, thinking we’d quaff—be…

He on his man-child laid a soothin… And hushed him into slumber, singi… For thee the world was made and fo… With this thy heritage, why dost t… ’For thee the mother bird on her s…

All day I lie beneath the great p… Whose perfumed branches wave and s… I hear the groaning of its straini… As in the breeze its thin leaves m… Like frantic fingers loosened and…

centeredA TRUE STORY I am a man who hath known trouble, O’Ruarc of the Lake. On my life’s glass joy rose as a b… To glitter and break.

Who has room for a friend Who has money to spend, And a goblet of gold For your fingers to hold, At the wave of whose hand

As I came down from the hill of A… When spring sang in the air, I heard the silken voice of summer Call from the cold earth there. As I came down from the hill of A…

How restless are the dead whose si… In to our lone retreat or solitary… Within the dew-wet wood or sun-enc… We meet them face to face, we hear… How powerful are the dead whose vo…