Success allures us in the earth an… We seek to win her, but, too amoro… Mocking, she flees us. Haply, wer… We would not strive and she would…

Let me forget her face! So fresh, so lovely! the abiding p… Of tears and smiles that won my he… Of dreams and moods that moved my… As strong winds stir

No more for him, where hills look… Shall Morning crown Her rainy brow with blossom bands!… The Morning Hours, whose rosy han… Drop wildflowers of the breaking s…

Beyond the barley meads and hay, What was the light that beckoned t… That made her sweet lips smile and… ‘Oh, busk me in a gown of May, And knot red poppies in my hair.’

Upon the Siren-haunted seas, betw… Within a world of moon and mist, w… I see a phantom galley and its hul… With ghostly oars that move to son… ‘Oh, we are sick of rowing here!

In heavens of riveted blue, that s… With glaucous flame, deep in the w… Stands Midas-like; or, wading on… Touches with splendor all the twil… Each cloud that, like a stepping-s…

Ye have ploughed the field like ca… Ye have sown the dragon-seed, Are ye ready now for battle? For fighters are what we need. Have ye done with taking and givin…

I dream again I 'm in the lane That leads me home through night a… Again the fence I see and, dense, The garden, wet and sweet of sense… Then mother’s window, with its sta…

There are faeries, bright of eye, Who the wildflowers’ warders are: Ouphes, that chase the firefly; Elves, that ride the shooting-star… Fays, who in a cobweb lie,

NIGHT, they say, is no man’s fri… And at night he met his end In the woods of Trebizend. Hate crouched near him as he strod… Through the blackness of the road,

THE season of the rose and peace… It could not last. There’s heartbreak in the hills an… Of sorrow in the rain-lashed plain… While Earth regards, aghast,

A RIVER binds the lonely land, A river like a silver band, To crags and shores of yellow sand… It is a place where kildees cry, And endless marshes eastward lie,

‘We have the receipt of fern seed:… —HENRY IV And we have met but twice or thric… Three times enough to make me love… I praised your hair once; then you…

The gladness of our Southern spri… Of summer; and the dreaminess of f… Are parts of her sweet nature. Su… Was Ruth’s, methinks, divinely sp…

CALLING, the heron flies athwar… That sleeps above it; reach on roc… Of water sings by sycamore and bee… In whose warm shade bloom lilies n… It is a page whereon the sun and d…