OUT of the wood of thoughts that… To be cut down by the sharp ax of… Out of the night, two cocks togeth… Cleaving the darkness with a silve… And brought before my eyes twin tr…

Some day, I think, there will be… In Froxfield to pick all the blac… Out of the hedges of Green Lane,… Broad lane where now September hi… In bracken and blackberry, harebel…

The green elm with the one great b… Lets leaves into the grass slip, o… The short hill grass, the mushroom… Harebell and scabious and tormenti… That blackberry and gorse, in dew…

She had a name among the children; But no one loved though someone ow… Her, locked her out of doors at be… And had her kittens duly drowned. In Spring, nevertheless, this cat

Women he liked, did shovel-bearded… Old Farmer Hayward of the Heath,… Loved horses. He himself was like… And leather-coloured. Also he lov… For the life in them he loved most…

Unless it was that day I never kn… Ambition. After a night of frost,… The March sun brightened and the… Jackdaws began to shout and float… Already, and one was racing straig…

This ploughman dead in battle slep… Many a frozen night, and merrily Answered staid drinkers, good bedm… “At Mrs Greenland’s Hawthorn Bus… “I slept.” None knew which bush.…

Half of the grove stood dead, and… Little more than the dead ones mad… If they led to a house, long befor… But they welcomed me; I was glad… Scarce a hundred paces under the t…

THE long small room that showed w… Narrowed up to the end the firepla… Although not wide. I liked it. No… What need or accident made them so… Only the moon, the mouse, and the…

Now I know that Spring will come… Perhaps to-morrow: however late I… After this night following on such… While still my temples ached from… Of hail and wind, and still the pr…

The sorrow of true love is a great… And true love parting blackens a b… Yet almost they equal joys, since… Is but hope blinded by its tears,… Above the storm the heavens wait t…

The skylarks are far behind that s… I can hear no more those suburb ni… Thrushes and blackbirds sing in th… In vain: the noise of man, beast,… But the call of children in the un…

I have come a long way to-day: On a strange bridge alone, Remembering friends, old friends, I rest, without smile or moan, As they remember me without smile…

No one so much as you Loves this my clay, Or would lament as you Its dying day. You know me through and through

That’s the cuckoo, you say. I can… When last I heard it I cannot rec… Too well the year when first I fa… It was drowned by my man groaning… Ten times with an angry voice he s…