Early one morning in May I set ou… And nobody I knew was about. I’m bound away for ever, Away somewhere, away for ever. There was no wind to trouble the w…

I built myself a house of glass: It took my years to make it: And I was proud. But now, alas! Would God someone would break it. But it looks too magnificent.

Gone the wild day: A wilder night Coming makes way For brief twilight. Where the firm soaked road

The sweetest thing, I thought At one time, between earth and hea… Was the first smile When mist has been forgiven And the sun has stolen out,

She is most fair, And when they see her pass The poets’ ladies Look no more in the glass But after her.

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…

One hour: as dim he and his house… As a reflection in a rippling broo… While I remember him; but first,… Empty it sounded. It was dark wit… That brushed the walls and made th…

Is this the road that climbs above… Round what was once a chalk-pit: n… By accident an amphitheatre. Some ash trees standing ankle-deep… And bramble act the parts, and nei…

They should never have built a bar… Drip, drip, drip! - under that elm… Though when it was young. Now it… But good, not like the barn and me… To-morrow they cut it down. They…

‘He has robbed two clubs. The jud… Can’t give him more than he undoub… Deserves. The scoundrel! Look at… A lady-killer! Hanging’s too good… For such as he.' So said the stra…

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…

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…

Gone, gone again, May, June, July, And August gone, Again gone by, Not memorable

The green roads that end in the fo… Are strewn with white goose feathe… Life marks left behind by someone… To show his track. But he has nev… Down each green road a cottage loo…

There are so many things I have f… That once were much to me, or that… All lost, as is a childless woman’… And its child’s children, in the u… Abyss of what can never be again.