How steep the stairs within Kings… For exile—wearied feet as mine to… And O how salt and bitter is the… Which falls from this Hound’s tab… That I had died in the red ways o…

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…

I wandered through Scoglietto’s f… The oranges on each o’erhanging sp… Burned as bright lamps of gold to… Some startled bird with fluttering… Made snow of all the blossoms; at…

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…

To my friend George Fleming autho… ‘Mirage’) A year ago I breathed the Italian… And yet, methinks this northern S… These fields made golden with the…

The seasons send their ruin as the… For in the spring the narciss show… Nor withers till the rose has flam… And in the autumn purple violets b… And the slim crocus stirs the wint…

Sweet, I blame you not, for mine… was, had I not been made of common… I had climbed the higher heights u… yet, seen the fuller air, the larg… From the wildness of my wasted pas…

As oftentimes the too resplendent… Hurries the pallid and reluctant m… Back to her sombre cave, ere she h… A single ballad from the nightinga… So doth thy Beauty make my lips t…

Under the rose—tree’s dancing shad… There stands a little ivory girl, Pulling the leaves of pink and pea… With pale green nails of polished… The red leaves fall upon the mould…

He was a Grecian lad, who coming… With pulpy figs and wine from Sic… Stood at his galley’s prow, and le… Blow through his crisp brown curls… And holding wave and wind in boy’s…

O singer of Persephone! In the dim meadows desolate Dost thou remember Sicily? Still through the ivy flits the be… Where Amaryllis lies in state;

My limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For calling on my Lady’s name My lips have now forgot to sing. O Linnet in the wild—rose brake

A Lily—Girl, not made for this wo… With brown, soft hair close braide… And longing eyes half veiled by sl… Like bluest water seen through mis… Pale cheeks whereon no love hath l…

When Narcissus died the pool of h… sweet waters into a cup of salt te… through the woodland that they mig… comfort. And when they saw that the pool ha…