WIDE downs all gray, with gray o… Chill fields stripped naked of the… Small fields of rain-wet grass and… Wet, wind-blown trees—and, over al… Does memory lie? For Hope her mis…

I HAVEN’T always acted good: I’ve taken things not meant for me… Not other people’s drink and food, But things they never seemed to se… I haven’t done the way I ought

THE lilies in my garden grow, Wide meadows ring my garden round, In that green copse wild violets b… And pale, frail cuckoo flowers are… For all you see and all you hear,

Last night when I kissed you, My soul caught alight; And oh! how I missed you The rest of the night - Till Love in derision

I reach my hand to thee! Stoop; take my hand in thine; Lead me where I would be, Father divine. I do not even know

(IRIS.) DADDY dear, I’m only four And I’d rather not be more: Four’s the nicest age to be— Two and two, or one and three.

The Spirit of Darkness, the Prin… The terror that walketh by night,… The legions of Evil, alert and aw… Press round him each hour; and I… God! call up Thy legions to fight…

WHERE baby oaks play in the bree… Among wood-sorrel and fringed fern… Through the green garments of the… The quivering shafts of sunlight b… And all along the wet green ride

PART I UNDER the shade of convent tower… Where fast and vigil mark the hour… From childhood into youth there gr… A maid as fresh as April dew,

ROSE of the desert of my heart, Moon of the night that is my soul, Thou can’st not know how sweet tho… Nor what wild tides thy beams cont… For all thy heart a garden is,

‘LOVE me little, love me long,’ Is the burden of my song, And if nothing more may be Little shall suffice for me. But if you could crown with flower…

THREE months had passed since sh… The grate of the confessional, and… —The priest—had wondered why she c… To tell her sinless sins—the vanit… Whose valid reason graced her simp…

NIGHT, ambushed in the darkling… Waited to seize the sleeping field… His sentinels the pine trees stood Till the sun fell beneath his shie… Then when the day at last was dead…

IN the deep heart of furthest fai… Where foot of man has never trodde… The enchanted portals of her palac… And there her sleepless sentinels… All round grow forests of white eg…

22nd January, 1901. THE Queen is dead. God save the… In this his hour of grief, When sorrow gathers memories in a… To lay them on his shoulders as he…