Sometimes ’tis far off, and someti… Such drummerdery noises too they b… ’Tis odd—oh, I do hope I baint to… Just as the summer months be comin… And buffly chicken out, and bumble…

Oh pleasant things there be Without this prison yard: Fields green, and many a tree With shadow on the sward, And drifting clouds that pass

In general, if you want a man to d… Say, swim the Channel, climb St.… The Bank of England, why, you fin… Than if you merely wanted him to l… But in the British Army, it’s jus…

Bodies of comrade soldiers gleamin… Within the mill-pool where you flo… And lounge around part-clothed or… Beautiful shining forms of men ali… O living lutes stringed with the s…

Walking round our cages like the l… Zoo, We think of things that we have do… we mean to do: Of girls we left behind us, of let…

Comrades of risk and rigour long a… Who have done battle under honour’… Hoped (living or shot down) some m… And wooed bright Danger for a thr… Laugh, oh laugh well, that we have…

Here where no tree changes, Here in a prison of pine, I think how Autumn ranges The country that is mine. There—rust upon the chill breeze–

How should I sing you?—you who dw… Within the darkest chamber of my h… What picturesque and inward-turnin… Could shadow forth the image of my… Sweet, world aloof, ineffably sere…

Big glory mellowing on the mellowi… And in the Uttle valleys, thatch… Wrought by the manifold and vagran… Of sun and ripening rain and wind… My country, that great magic cup w…

God dreamed a man; Then, having firmly shut Life like a precious metal in his… Withdrew, His labour done. Thus d… Our various divinity and sin.

(To E.M., Who drew them in Ho… From troubles of the world I turn… Beautiful comical things Sleeping or curled Their heads beneath white wings

Once, I remember, when we were at… I had come into church, and waited… Ere lastly kneeling to communicate Alone: and thinking that you would… Then, with closed eyes (having rec…

On Where’s the use to write? What can I tell you, dear? Just that I want you so Who are not near. Just that I miss the lamp whose b…

I’m homesick for my hills again - My hills again! To see above the Severn plain, Unscabbarded against the sky, The blue high blade of Cotswold l…

Outside, white snow And freezing mire. The heart of the house Is a blazing fire! Even so whatever hags do ride