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

“Hush!” was my whisper At the stair-top When the waggoners were down below Home from the barley-crop. Through the high window

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…

Though summer long delayeth Her blue and golden boon, Yet now at length she stayeth Her wings above the noon; She sets the waters dreaming

Sometimes youth comes to age and a… Or counsel, or a tale of old estat… Yet youth will still be curiously… The old man’s thought when death i… For all their courteous words they…

Barefoot we went by Millers Dale When meadowsweet was golden gloom And happy love was in the vale Singing upon the summer bloom Of gipsy crop and branches laid

Austere and clad in sombre robes o… With hands upfolded and with silen… In unimpassioned mystery the day Passes; a lonely thrush its requie… The dust of night is tangled in th…

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

In the Wheatsheaf parlour I sat t… The story of Chippington street g… The squire, and dames of little de… And drovers with cattle and flocks… And these were all as my creatures…

At the top of the house the apples… And the skylight lets the moonligh… Apples are deep-sea apples of gree… A cloud on the moon in the autumn… A mouse in the wainscot scratches,…

To Mrs. Thomas Hardy I do not use to listen well At sermon time, I 'Id rather hear the plainest rh… Than tales the parsons tell;

The bird in the corn Is a marvellous crow. He was laid and was born In the season of snow; And he chants his old catches

Merely the moonlight Piercing the boughs of my may-tree… Falling upon my ferns; Only the night Touching my ferns with silver bloo…

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…

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