The lake she haunts gleams dreamil… ‘Twixt sleepy boughs of melody, Set ’mid the hills beside the sea, In tangled bush and brier; Where the ghostly sunsets write

I HAD forgot how, in my day The Sabine fields around me lay In amaranth and asphodel, With many a cold Bandusian well Bright-bubbling by the mountain-wa…

Corn-colored clouds upon a sky of… And 'mid their sheaves,-where, lik… Left by the reapers to the gatheri… The star of twilight glows,-as Ru… Dreamed homesick 'mid the harvest…

Last night I lay awake and heard… That madman jongleur of the world… Making wild music: now he seemed t… With harp and lute, so intimately… They were as one; now on a drum he…

How shall it be with them that day When God demands of Earth His pa… With them who make a god of clay And gold and put all truth away. Shall not they see the lightning-r…

All the roses now are gone, All their glories shed: Here’s a rose that grows not wan, Rose of love to wear upon Your fair breast instead.

They are the wise who look before, Nor fear to look behind; Who in the darkness still ignore Pale shadows of the mind. Who, having lost, though loss be m…

THE black night showed its hungry… And gnawed with sleet at roof and… Beneath the door I heard it breat… A beast that growled in vain. The hunter wind stalked up and dow…

An evil, stealthy water, dark as h… Sunk from the light of day, ‘Thwart which is hung a ruined wat… Creeps on its stagnant way. Moss and the spawny duckweed, dim…

‘Teach me the wisdom of thy beauty… That, being thus wise, I may aspi… What beauty is, whence, why, and i… Immortal, yet how mortal utterly: For, shrinking loveliness, thy bro…

Here is a tale for spinsters at th… There was a goose, a little goslin… Who went her goose-girl way and lo… As every goose should when ’tis wi… Proper was she as every gosling sh…

Take heart again. Joy may be lost… It is not always Spring. And even now from some far Summer… Hither the birds may wing.

John-A-Dreams and Harum-Scarum Came a-riding into town: At the Sign o’ the Jug-and-Jorum There they met with Low-lie-down. Brave in shoes of Romany leather,

The little tents the wildflowers r… Are tabernacles where Love prays And Beauty preaches all the days. I walk the woodland through and th… And everywhere I see their blue

Along the road I smelt the rose, The wild-rose in its veil of rain; And how it was, God only knows, But with its scent I saw again A girl’s face at a window-pane,