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,

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.

I stood in an ancient garden With high red walls around; Over them grey and green lichens In shadowy arabesque wound. The topmost climbing blossoms

I waited for the Master In the darkness dumb; Light came fast and faster– My light did not come! I waited all the daylight,

It is no winter night comes down Upon our hearts, dear friends of o… But a May evening, softly brown, Whose wind is rather cold. We are not, like yon sad-eyed Wes…

I see thy house, but I am blown a… A wind-mocked kite, between the ea… All out of doors-alas! of thy door… And drenched in dews no summer sun… For every blast is passion of my o…

Were thou and I the white pinions On some eager, heaven-born dove, Swift would we mount to the old do… To our rest of old, my love! Were thou and I trembling strands

I have long enough been working do… Working spade and pick, boring-chi… I long for wider spaces, airy, cle… Successless labour never the love… More profit surely lies in a holy,…

O wind of God, that blowest in th… Blow, blow and wake the gentle spr… Blow, swifter blow, a strong warm… Till all the flowers with eyes com… Blow till the fruit hangs red on e…

The flush of green that dyed the d… Hath vanished in the moon; Flower-scents float stronger out,… An unborn, coming tune. One southern eve like this, the de…

King Cole he reigned in Aureoland… But the sceptre was seldom in his… Far oftener was there his golden c… He ate too much, but he drank all… To be called a king and to be a ki…

Her mother, Elfie older grown, One evening, for adieu, Said, 'You’ll not mind being left… For God takes care of you!’ In child-way her heart’s eye did s…

Everything goes to its rest; The hills are asleep in the noon; And life is as still in its nest As the moon when she looks on a mo… In the depth of a calm river’s bre…

Gray clouds my heaven have covered… My sea ebbs fast, no more to flow; Ghastly and dry, my desert shore Parched, bare, unsightly things do… ’Tis thou, Lord, cloudest up my s…

In God alone, the perfect end, Wilt thou find thyself or friend.