A green eye-and a red-in the dark. Thunder-smoke-and a spark. It is there-it is here-flashed by. Whither will the wild thing fly? It is rushing, tearing thro’ the n…

Some hang above the tombs, Some weep in empty rooms, I, when the iris blooms, Remember. I, when the cyclamen

We are not near enough to love, I can but pity all your woe; For wealth has lifted me above, And falsehood set you down below. If you were true, we still might b…

I sat before my glass one day, And conjured up a vision bare, Unlike the aspects glad and gay, That erst were found reflected the… The vision of a woman, wild

O LET me be in loving nice, Dainty, fine, and o’er precise, That I may charm my charmàd dear As tho’ I felt a secret fear To lose what never can be lost,—

Sunshine let it be or frost, Storm or calm, as Thou shalt choo… Though Thine every gift were lost… Thee Thyself we could not lose.

Oh, a gallant set were they, As they charged on us that day, A thousand riding like one! Their trumpets crying, And their white plumes flying,

GOOD FRIDAY in my heart! Fear… My thoughts are the Disciples whe… My words the words that priest and… My deed the spear to desecrate the… And day, Thy death therein, is ch…

None ever was in love with me but… She wooed my from the day that I… She stole my playthings first, the… And left me there forlorn. The birds that in my garden would…

Egypt’s might is tumbled down Down a-down the deeps of though; Greece is fallen and Troy town, Glorious Rome hath lost her crown… Venice’ pride is nought.

As Christ the Lord was passing by… He came, one night, to a cottage d… He came, a poor man, to the poor; He had no bed whereon to lie. He asked in vain for a crust of br…

TURN in, my lord, she said ; As it were the Father of Sin I have hated the Father of the De… The slayer of my kin ; By the Father of the Living led,

When wintry winds are no more hear… And joy’s in every bosom, When summer sings in every bird, And shines in every blossom, When happy twilight hours are long…

On alien ground, breathing an alie… A Roman stood, far from his ancie… And gazing, murmured, ‘Ah, the hills are fair,
But not… Descendant of a race to Romans-ki…

Country roads are yellow and brown… We mend the roads in London town. Never a hansom dare come nigh, Never a cart goes rolling by. An unwonted silence steals