The buried voice bespake Antigone… ‘O sister! couldst thou know, as t… The bliss above, the reverence bel… Enkindled by thy sacrifice for me; Thou wouldst at once with holy ecs…

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… ground.

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…

(The Death Of Robert Browning) Now dumb is he who waked the world… And voiceless hangs the world besi… Our words are sobs, our cry of pra… We are the smitten mortal, we the…

O nightingale! how hast thou learn… The note of the nested dove? While under thy bower the fern han… And no cloud hovers above! Rich July has many a sky

O might I load my arms with thee, Like that young lover of Romance Who loved and gained so gloriously The fair Princess of France! Because he dared to love so high,

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,

It is no vulgar nature I have wiv… Secretive, sensitive, she takes a… Deep to her soul, as if the sense… And not a thought of vengeance had… No confidences has she: but relief

The moon is alone in the sky As thou in my soul; The sea takes her image to lie Where the white ripples roll All night in a dream,

Distraction is the panacea, Sir! I hear my oracle of Medicine say. Doctor! that same specific yesterd… I tried, and the result will not d… A second trial. Is the devil’s li…

Now, this, to my notion, is pleasa… To lie all alone on a ragged heath… Where your nose isn’t sniffing for… But a peat-fire smells like a gard… The cottagers bustle about the doo…

Young captain of a crazy bark! O tameless heart in battered frame… Thy sailing orders have a mark, And hers is not the name. For action all thine iron clanks

What is the name of King Ringang’… Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut! And what does she do the livelong… Since she dare not knit and spin a… O hunting and fishing is ever her…

I must be flattered. The imperiou… Desire speaks out. Lady, I am con… To play with you the game of Sent… And with you enter on paths perilo… But if across your beauty I throw…

Her son, albeit the Muse’s livery And measured courtly paces rouse h… Naked and hairy in his savage haun… To Nature only will he bend the k… Spouting the founts of her distill…