Men the Angels eyed; And here they were wild waves, And there as marsh descried; Men the Angels eyed, And liked the picture best

Under yonder beech—tree single on… Couched with her arms behind her g… Knees and tresses folded to slip a… Lies my young love sleeping in the… Had I the heart to slide an arm b…

When I remember, friend, whom los… Because a man beloved is taken hen… The tender humour and the fire of… In your good eyes; how full of hea… And chiefly for the weaker by the…

[Written for the Charing Cross A… Seen, too clear and historic withi… Frown when the Autumn days strike… They of our mortal diseases find n… Errors they of the soul, past the…

A roar thro’ the tall twin elm-tre… The mustering storm betrayed: The South-wind seized the willow That over the water swayed. Then fell the steady deluge

Thou our beloved and light of Ear… The sea of darkness to the yonder… There dost thou shine a light tran… Through love to kindle in our soul…

Once I was part of the music I he… On the boughs or sweet between ear… For joy of the beating of wings on… My heart shot into the breast of t… I hear it now and I see it fly,

He felt the wild beast in him betw… So masterfully rude, that he would… To see the helpless delicate thing… His guardianship through certain d… Had he not teeth to rend, and hung…

Day of the cloud in fleets! O day Of wedded white and blue, that sai… Immingled, with a footing ray In shadow—sandals down our vale!— And swift to ravish golden meads,

We have seen mighty men ballooning… And in another moment bump the gro… He falls; and in his measurement i… To count some inches o’er the comm… ’Twas not enough to send him climb…

Chillanwallah, Chillanwallah! Where our brothers fought and bled… O thy name is natural music And a dirge above the dead! Though we have not been defeated,

When I would image her features, Comes up a shrouded head: I touch the outlines, shrinking; She seems of the wandering dead. But when love asks for nothing,

Let Fate or Insufficiency provide Mean ends for men who what they ar… Penned in their narrow day no chan… Save one which strikes the blow to… Our faith is ours and comes not on…

The daisy now is out upon the gree… And in the grassy lanes The child of April rains, The sweet fresh-hearted violet, is… Along the brooks and meads, the da…