Erewhile, before the world was old… When violets grew and celandine, In Cupid’s train we were enrolled… Erewhile! Your little hands were clasped in…

Before my light goes out for ever… graces, I would not reck of length of days… But cry: ‘One day of the great lo… Grant me to see and touch once mor…

All that I had I brought, Little enough I know; A poor rhyme roughly wrought, A rose to match thy snow: All that I had I brought.

Because I am idolotrous and have… With grievous supplication and con… The admirable image that my love h… Out of her swan’s neck and her dar… The jealous gods who brook no wors…

Shall one be sorrowful because of… Which hath no earthly crown, Which lives and dies, unknown? Because no words of his shall ever… Her maiden heart to own

Why am I sorry, Chloe? Because t… And who am I to be straitened in… Because thy face is fair? And wha… The fairest face of all is the fac… Because the land is cold, and howe…

Where river and ocean meet in a gr… Beyond the bar, where on the dunes… Above, one windmill stands forlorn… I will set my sail on a stormy day… That I have sought and never foun…

Here, where the breath of the scen… sun-stained air, On a steep hill-side, on a grassy… and heard Only the faint breeze pass in a wh…

SPLEEN Around were all the roses red, The ivy all around was black. Dear, so thou only move thine head… Shall all mine old despairs awake!

Who is this mortal Who ventures to-night To woo an immortal, Cold, cold the moon’s light For sleep at this portal,

What is Love? Is it a folly, Is it mirth, or melancholy? Joys above, Are there many, or not any?

They are not long, the weeping and… Love and desire and hate: I think they have no portion in us… We pass the gate. They are not long, the days of win…

Cease smiling, Dear! a little whi… Here in the silence, under the wan… Sweet are thine eyes, but how can… Knowing they change so soon? For Love’s sake, Dear, be silent!…

Strange grows the river on the sun… The river comforts me, grown spect… Long was the day; at last the cons… _Sufficient for the day are the da… Labour and longing and despair the…

By the pale marge of Acheron, Me thinks we shall pass restfully, Beyond the scope of any sun. There all men hie them one by one, Far from the stress of earth and s…