Now far from my old northern land, I live where gentle winters pass; Where green seas lave a wealthy st… And unsown is the grass ;

I have not any fearful tale to tel… Of fabled giant or of dragon-claw, Or bloody deed to pilfer and to se… To those who feed, with such, a ga… But what in yonder hamlet there be…

‘O lat me in, my bonny lass! It’s a lang road ower the hill, And the flauchterin snaw begud to… On the brig ayont the mill!’ ‘Here’s nae change-hoose, John Mu…

‘They have no more wine!’ she said… But they had enough of bread; And the vessels by the door Held for thirst a plenteous store: Yes,

The sun is gone down And the moon’s in the sky But the sun will come up And the moon be laid by. The flower is asleep.

When the clock hath ceased to tick Soul-like in the gloomy hall; When the latch no more doth click Tongue-like in the red peach-wall; When no more come sounds of play,

I walked all night: the darkness d… Around me fell a mist, a weary rai… Enduring long. At length the dawn… A temple’s front, high-lifted from… Closed were the lofty doors that l…

The fact which suggested this poem… Blue sky above, blue sea below, Far off, the old Nile’s mouth, ’Twas a blue world, wherein did bl… A soft wind from the south.

I. I honour Nature, holding it un… To look with jealousy on her desig… With every passing year more fast… About my heart; with her mysteriou… Claim I a fellowship not less aug…

Father, I cry to thee for bread With hungred longing, eager prayer… Thou hear’st, and givest me instea… More hunger and a half-despair. 0 Lord, how long? My days decline…

In the winter, flowers are springi… In the winter, woods are green, Where our banished birds are singi… Where our summer sun is seen! Our cold midnights are coeval

She comes! again she comes, the br… Under a ragged cloud I found her… Clasping her own dark orb like hop… That ragged cloud hath waited her… And he hath found and he will hide…

When the summer gave us a longer d… And the leaves were thickest, I w… Like an isle, through dark clouds,… Was that summer-ramble from Londo… It was but one burst into life and…

Quiet, quiet dead, Have ye aught to say From your hidden bed In the earthy clay? Fathers, children, mothers,