Like to some deep-chested organ wh… Serenely majestic in utterance, lo… Interprets to mortals with melody… The mystical harmonies chiming for… spheres.

1—I When the South sang like a nighti… Above a bower in May, The training of Love’s vine of fl… Was writ in laws, for lord and dam…

She issues radiant from her dressi… Like one prepared to scale an uppe… —By stirring up a lower, much I f… How deftly that oiled barber lays… That long-shanked dapper Cupid wi…

Thus piteously Love closed what h… The union of this ever—diverse pai… These two were rapid falcons in a… Condemned to do the flitting of th… Lovers beneath the singing sky of…

Unto that love must we through fir… Which those two held as breath of… The hands of whom were given in bo… Whom Honour was untroubled to res… Midway the road of our life’s term…

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,

Pitch here the tent, while the old… By the old hedge—side we’ll halt a… It’s nigh my last above the daisie… My next leaf’ll be man’s blank pag… Yes, my old girl! and it’s no use…

[Iliad, B. XVII. V. 426] So now the horses of Aiakides, of… Wept, since first they were ware o… Cast down low in the whirl of the… Sooth, meanwhile, then did Autome…

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…

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…

Though I am faithful to my loves… And place them among Memory’s gre… Where burns a face like Hesper: o… Of visages I get a moment’s view, Sweet eyes that in the heaven of m…

Should thy love die; O bury it not under ice-blue eyes! And lips that deny, With a scornful surprise, The life it once lived in thy brea…

WHEN by Zeus relenting the manda…    Sentencing to exile the bright… Mindful were the ploughmen of who…    Who: and what a track show’d th… Mindful were the shepherds, as now…

Where faces are hueless, where eye… Where passion is silent and hearts… Where thought hath no theme, and w… In patience and peace thou art gon… Gone where no warning can wake the…

When we have thrown off this old s… So much in need of mending, To sink among the naked mute, Is that, think you, our ending? We follow many, more we lead,