Rome! what a scroll of History th… In the first days thy sword republ… Ruled the whole world for many an… Then of thy peoples thou wert crow… Till in thy streets the bearded G…

Like burnt—out torches by a sick m… Gaunt cypress—trees stand round th… Here doth the little night—owl mak… And the slight lizard show his jew… And, where the chaliced poppies fl…

Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies… Sad olive—groves, or silver—breast… Teach me more clearly of Thy life… Than terrors of red flame and thun… The hillside vines dear memories o…

The little white clouds are racing… And the fields are strewn with the… The daffodil breaks under foot, an… Sways and swings as the thrush goe… A delicate odour is borne on the w…

In the lone tent, waiting for vict… She stands with eyes marred by the… Like some wan lily overdrenched wi… The clamorous clang of arms, the e… War’s ruin, and the wreck of chiva…

In a dim corner of my room for lon… my fancy thinks A beautiful and silent Sphinx has… through the shifting gloom. Inviolate and immobile she does no…

The oleander on the wall Grows crimson in the dawning light… Though the grey shadows of the nig… Lie yet on Florence like a pall. The dew is bright upon the hill,

Christ, dost thou live indeed? or… Still straightened in their rock—h… And was thy Rising only dreamed b… Whose love of thee for all her sin… For here the air is horrid with me…

As one who poring on a Grecian ur… Scans the fair shapes some Attic… God with slim goddess, goodly man… And for their beauty’s sake is lot… And face the obvious day, must I…

Now when the darkness came over th… having lighted a torch of pinewood… the valley. For he had business in… And kneeling on the flint stones o… a young man who was naked and weep…

He did not wear his scarlet coat, For blood and wine are red, And blood and wine were on his han… When they found him with the dead, The poor dead woman whom he loved,

I have no store Of gryphon—guarded gold; Now, as before, Bare is the shepherd’s fold. Rubies nor pearls

The wild bee reels from bough to b… With his furry coat and his gauzy… Now in a lily—cup, and now Setting a jacinth bell a—swing, In his wandering;

In the glad springtime when leaves… O merrily the throstle sings! I sought, amid the tangled sheen, Love whom mine eyes had never seen… O the glad dove has golden wings!