‘Murmuring, ’twixt a murmur and mo… Many a tune in a single tone, For every ear with a secret true– The sea-shell wants to whisper to… ‘Yes-I hear it-far and faint,

There breathes not a breath of the… But the spirit of love is moving t… Not a trembling leaf on the shadow… Flutters with hundreds in harmony, But that spirit can part its tone…

Old fables are not all a lie That tell of wondrous birth, Of Titan children, father Sky, And mighty mother Earth. Yea, now are walking on the ground

Enough he labours for his hire; Yea, nought can pay his pain; But powers that wear and waste and… Need help to toil again. They give him freely all they can,

I pray you, all ye men who put you… In moulds and systems and well-tac… Holding that Nature lives from ye… In one continual round because she… Set me not down, I pray you, in t…

What life it is, and how that all… With outward maker’s force, or lik… Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia To L.P.M.D.

The witch lady walked along the st… Heard a roaring of the sea, On the edge of a pool saw a dead m… Good thing for a witch lady! Lightly she stepped across the roc…

Suggested by a drawing of Thomas… . This must be the very night! The moon knows it!-and the trees! They stand straight upright,

Queen Mary one day Jesus sent To fetch some water, legends tell; The little boy, obedient, Drew a full pitcher from the well; But as he raised it to his head,

O night, send up the harvest moon To walk about the fields, And make of midnight magic noon On lonely tarns and wealds. In golden ranks, with golden crown…

Oh how oft I wake and find I have been forgetting thee! I am never from thy mind: Thou it is that wakest me.

Trust my father, saith the eldest-… I did trust him ere the earth bega… Not to know him is to be forlorn; Not to love him is-not to be man. He that knows him loves him altoge…

The monk was praying in his cell, With bowed head praying sore; He had been praying on his knees For two long hours and more. As of themselves, all suddenly,

Had I the grace to win the grace Of some old man in lore complete, My face would worship at his face, And I sit lowly at his feet. Had I the grace to win the grace

Still am I haunting Thy door with my prayers; Still they are panting Up thy steep stairs! Wouldst thou not rather