Author Notes
‘Riddles’ was the boyish nickname given to Lieutenant S.G. Ridley of the Royal Flying Corps, a lad of twenty, who was reported to have lost his life in the Egyptian Desert while trying to save the life of a comrade.
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At April’s end, when blossoms bre… To birth upon my apple-tree, I know the certain year will take Full harvest of this infancy. At April’s end, when comes the de…
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…
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…
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
Come down at dawn from windless hi… Into the valley of the lake, Where yet a larger quiet fills The hour, and mist and water make With rocks and reeds and island bo…
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
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,
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…
Merely the moonlight Piercing the boughs of my may-tree… Falling upon my ferns; Only the night Touching my ferns with silver bloo…
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,…
We are talkative proud, and assure… sufficient, The quick of the earth this day; This inn is ours, and its courtyar… history,
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
To-day I have talked with old Eur… Shakespeare this morning sang for… Of chimney-sweepers; through the… Comes beating still the nightingal… The Tabard ales to-day are freshl…
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…
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…