‘Tis Evanoe’s, A house not made with hands, But out somewhere beyond the world… Her gold is spread, above, around,… Strange ways and walls are fashion…

In vain have I striven, to teach my heart to bow; In vain have I said to him ‘There be many singers greater tha… But his answer cometh, as winds an…

The Sword Singing - The voice of the Sword from the h… Clanging imperious Forth from Time’s battlements

There’s a regret So grinding, so immitigably sad, Remorse thereby feels tolerant, ev… Do you not know it yet? For deeds undone

The clouds have gathered and gathe… and the rain falls and falls, The eight ply of the heavens are all folded into one darkness, And the wide flat road stretches o…

You’d have men’s hearts up from th… And tell their secrets, Messire C… Rigkt enough? Then read between t… Solve me the riddle, for you know… Bertrans, En Bertrans, left a fin…

Young men riding in the street In the bright new season Spur without reason Causing their steeds to leap. And at the pace they keep

Some may have blamed us that we ce… Of things we spoke of in our verse… Saying: a lovely voice is such as… Saying: that lady’s eyes were sad… Wherein the world’s whole joy is b…

The twisted rhombs ceased their cl… The scorched laurel lay in the fir… The moon still declined to descend… But the black ominous owl hoot was… And one raft bears our fates

Empty are the ways, Empty are the ways of this land And the flowers Bend over with heavy heads. They bend in vain.

The bashful Arides Has married an ugly wife, He was bored with his manner of li… Indifferent and discouraged he tho… Well do this as anything else.

O Chansons foregoing You were a seven days’ wonder. When you came out in the magazines You created considerable stir in… And now you are stale and worn out…

What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own? With your glorious eyes austere,

Lo, how it gleams and glistens in… Like the cheek of a Chesterton.

This lady in the white bath-robe w… peignoir, Is, for the time being, the mistre… And the delicate white feet of her… Are not more delicate than she is,