There I cannot find thee, O my lo… In the city’s clamour, In its pleasure’s glamour; ‘Mid the multitude of faces Or the wilderness of places

A beggar sat by the King’s highwa… O, but the road was long! His hair was black and his beard w… Hark to the linnet’s song! He sat him down by the churchyard…

A Ballad of Good Intentions Four children played by an old oak… Big John and James and little Be… And, threading a chain of daisies… On the leaf-brown sward knelt Ger…

Upon the shore young Una lies, A smile upon her mouth; Soft breezes kiss her heavy hair, Slow blowing from the South. Within the cabin on the hill

A Legend of Tyrol I through the valley of Klausen w… By a little stream, and heard it s… Down by its bed I crouched and be… A listening ear as it hurried by.

In the springtime once I wandered… Wonder-eyed I gazed around me in… And a path stretched long before m… While the birds, so sweetly singin… Down the path, with song and laugh…

When the white rose and the red sp… Make a scented path to tread throu… I half-dreaming all forget in the… That the city’s claim will come, b… How can I go forth again to the h…

It dawned a morn to make a heart d… East was the wind and chill the A… No beast was out save one poor sta… Who for his supper nosed the muddy… Beside the river, where its sluggi…

[EASTER, ] Here on my path by s… When life at last held out full ha… When the great dreams of younger y… And dear, dead voices whispered ‘… Ah, cruel blow, from which I stri…

O the chatter, chatter, chatter, Of the things that do not matter. Little wordy things that clatter, Restless feet that pitter patter, All my pretty houses scatter,

I saw an Eastern God to-day; My comrades laughed; lest I betra… My secret thoughts, I mocked him… His many hands (he had no few, This God of gifts and charity),

Before her mirror in a pouting moo… Afraid to weep lest anger should r… The picture there, she did impatie… Why Fate should treat her worse t… Her lilac frock her mother’s hand…

Weep no more, heart of my heart, n… The night has passed and the dawn… The cuckoo calls from the budding… And tells us that Spring is near. Sorrow no more, beloved, no more!

Madge Linsey at the well raised t… Brimmed her brass bucket full, wen… Loose hung her collar her full thr… Rough fell her silken hair, sullen… Went down the village street jaunt…

One morning, when dreaming in deep… I met a sweet colleen a-making her… With sighing and sobbing she cried… ‘Oh where is my lost one, and wher… ’My house it is small, and my fiel…