On Helen’€™s heart the day were n… But I may not adventure there: Here breast is guarded by a right, And she is true as fair. And though in happy days her eyes

Last night some yellow letters fel… From out a scrip I found by chanc… Among them was the silent ghost, The spirit of my first romance: And in a faint blue envelope

I’m greedy by nature, and often in… Have lingered too long o’er the su… Accepting the jelly, ignoring the… Intent on receiving far more than… I worship the plover’s egg, tasty…

You voluble, Velvety Vehement fellows That play on your Flying and

This peach is pink with such a pin… As suits the peach divinely; The cunning colour rarely spread Fades to the yellow finely; But where to spy the truest pink

HERE in the country’€™s heart Where the grass is green, Life is the same sweet life As it e’€™er hath been. Trust in a God still lives,

Have you seen the golfers airy Prancing forth to their vagary, Just as frisky in their gaiters As a flock of Grecian Satyrs, Looking everything heroic,

Excuse me, Sweetheart, if I smear… With wisdom learnt from ancient te… Now winter time once more is here, This grease upon your lengthy feat… Behaving thus, your loyal friend

Bartholomew is very sweet, From sandy hair to rosy feet. Bartholomew is six months old, And dearer far than pearls or gold… Bartholomew has deep blue eyes,

WAIT but a little while— The bird will bring A heart in tune for melodies Unto the spring, Till he who ’s in the cedar there

O BROTHERS, who must ache and… O’er wordy tasks in London town, How scantly Laura trips for you— A poem in a gown! How rare if Grub-street grew a la…

IT hardly seems that he is dead, So strange it is that we are here Beneath this great blue shell of s… With apple-bloom and pear: It scarce seems true that we can n…

The kind-hearted angler was sadly… His calling unhallowed of choking… He bitterly wept, for of course he… An action most strongly opposed to… His vertabra shook as he musingly…

If you passed her in your city You would call her badly dressed, But the faded homespun covers Such a heart in such a breast! True, her rosy face is freckled

O might I leave this grassy place For spreading foam about my feet! The splendid spray upon my face, The flying brine itself were sweet If I might hear on Cromer beach