Through the sunny garden The humming bees are still; The fir climbs the heather, The heather climbs the hill. The low clouds have riven

BLUE is Our Lady’s colour, White is Our Lord’s. To-morrow I will wear a knot Of blue and white cords, That you may see it, where you rid…

|WE were young, we were merry, we… And the door stood open at our fea… When there passed us a woman with… And a man with his back to the Ea… O, still grew the hearts that were…

I HAVE walked a great while over… And I am not tall nor strong. My clothes are wet, and my teeth a… And the way was hard and long. I have wandered over the fruitful…

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

Many a flower have I seen blossom… Many a bird for me will sing. Never heard I so sweet a singer, Never saw I so fair a thing. She is a bird, a bird that blossom…

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…

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

There’s no smoke in the chimney, And the rain beats on the floor; There’s no glass in the window, There’s no wood in the door; The heather grows behind the house…

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,

I ask of thee, love, nothing but r… Thou canst not bring the old days… For I was happy then, Not knowing heavenly joy, not know…

MOTHER of God! no lady thou: Common woman of common earth Our Lady ladies call thee now, But Christ was never of gentle bi… A common man of the common earth.

Strange Power, I know not what th… Murderer or mistress of my heart. I know I’d rather meet the blow Of my most unrelenting foe Than live—as now I live—to be

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,

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…