High up in the sky there, now, you… In this May twilight, our cottage… Tenantless, and no creature there… Near it but Mrs. Fry’s fat cows,… Dove-coloured, as is Cotswold. No…

Beyond my window in the night Is but a drab inglorious street, Yet there the frost and clean star… As over Warwick woods are sweet. Under the grey drift of the town

When you deliberate the page Of Alexander’s pilgrimage, Or say —'It is three years, or te… Since Easter slew Connolly’s men,… Or prudently to judgment come

Sometimes the ghosts forgotten go Along the hill-top way, And with long scythes of silver mo… Meadows of moonlit hay, Until the cocks of Cotswold crow

Where wall and sill and broken win… Are bright with flowers unroofed a… skies, And nothing but the nesting jackda… Breaks the hushed even, once imper…

God laughed when he made Grafton That’s under Bredon Hill, A jewel in a jewelled plain. The seasons work their will On golden thatch and crumbling sto…

I was in the woods to-day, And the leaves were spinning there… Rich apparelled in decay, — In decay more wholly fair Than in life they ever were.

The sacrament of bough and blade, Of populous folds and building bir… I take, till now an end is made Of praise and ceremonial words, And I too turn myself to keep

For peace, than knowledge more des… Into your Sussex quietness I came… When summer’s green and gold and a… Over the world in flame. « And peace upon your pasture-lands…

Now Love, her mantle thrown, Goes naked by, Threading the woods alone, Her royal eye Happy because the primroses again

His wage of rest at nightfall stil… He takes, who sixty years has know… Of ploughing over Cotsall hill And keeping trim the Cotsall ston… He meditates the dusk, and sees

A shower of green gems on my apple… This first morning of May Has fallen out of the night, to be Herald of holiday — Bright gems of green that, fallen…

Ringed high with turf the arena li… The neighbouring world unseen, unh… Here are but unhorizoned skies, And on the skies a passing bird, The conies and a wandering sheep,

I At any moment love unheralded Comes, and is king. Then as, with… Of frost, the buds upon the hawtho… Are withered in untimely burial, So love, occasion gone, his crown…

He was a boy of April beauty; one Who had not tried the world; who,… Flamed yet upon the eastern sky, w… Time would have brought him in her… So his young beauty spoke-to prosp…