Within a Temple of the Toes, Where twirled the passionate Wili… I saw full many a market rose, And sighed for my village lily. With cynical Adrian then I took f…

A fountain of our sweetest, quick… In fellowship abounding, here subs… And never passage of a cloud on wi… To gladden blue forgets him; near…

See’st thou a Skylark whose glist… Quiver like pulses beneath the mel… Deep in the heart—yearning distanc… Wisdom and beauty and love are the…

Strike not thy dog with a stick! I did it yesterday: Not to undo though I gained The Paradise: heavy it rained On Kobold’s flanks, and he lay.

Cannon his name, Cannon his voice, he came. Who heard of him heard shaken hill… An earth at quake, to quiet stampe… Who looked on him beheld the will…

To them that knew her, there is vi… In these the simple letters of her… To them that knew her not, be it b… So strong a spirit is not of the d…

The song of a nightingale sent thr… Low-lidded with twilight, and tran… Tranced with a tender enchantment;… That wins immortality even while p…

Rich labour is the struggle to be… While we make sure the struggle ca… Else better were it in some bower… Slothful to swing, contending with… You point at Wisdom fixed on loft…

The old grey mother she thrummed o… There is a rose that’s ready; And which of the handsome young me… There’s a rose that’s ready for cl… My daughter, come hither, come hit…

In our old shipwrecked days there… When in the firelight steadily agl… Joined slackly, we beheld the red… Among the clicking coals. Our lib… That eve was left to us: and hushe…

unset worn to its last vermilion h… She that star overhead in slow des… That white star with the front of… He undone in his rays of glory spe… Halo, fair as the bow-shot at his…

How died Melissa none dares shape… A woman who is wife despotic lords Count faggot at the question, Sha… Her son, because his brows were bl… Runs barking for his bread, a fugi…

O my lover! the night like a broad… Bears us onward, and morn, a black… How I shuddered-I knew not that… Till I looked on thy face:- then… Then I felt like a thing caught b…

THE POETRY OF CHAUCER Grey with all honours of age! but… As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard… Tender to tearfulness-childlike, a… Here beats true English blood ric…

This golden head has wit in it. I… Again, and a far higher life, near… Some women like a young philosophe… Perchance because he is diminutive… For woman’s manly god must not exc…