False Sir John a wooing came To a maid of beauty fair; May Colven was this lady’s name, Her father’s only heir. He wood her butt, he wood her ben,

Ye wells, ye founts that fall From the steep mountain wall, That fall, and flash, and fleet With silver feet, Ye woods, ye streams that lave

ON Calais Sands the gray began, Then rosy red above they gray; The morn with many a scarlet van Leaped, and the world was glad wit… The little waves along the bay

In torrid heats of late July, In March, beneath the bitter bise… He book-hunts while the loungers f… He book-hunts, though December fr… In breeches baggy at the knees,

Your hair and chin are like the ha… And chin Burne-Jones’s ladies wea… You were unfashionably fair In '83; And sad you were when girls are ga…

For thee soft crowns in thine untr… I wove, my lady, and to thee I be… Thither no shepherd drives his flo… Nor scythe of steel has ever labou… Nay, through the spring among the…

Money taketh town and wall, Fort and ramp without a blow; Money moves the merchants all, While the tides shall ebb and flow… Money maketh Evil show

It fell about the Martinmas tyde, When our Border steeds get corn a… The captain of Bewcastle hath bou… And he’s ower to Tividale to driv… The first ae guide that they met w…

1731 BEAUTIFUL face of a child, Lighted with laughter and glee, Mirthful, and tender, and wild, My heart is heavy for thee!

Still sing the mocking fairies, as… Beneath the shade of thorn and hol… The west wind breathes upon them,… And wolves still dread Diana roam… In secret woodland with her compan…

(Sidero, the stepmother of Tyro,… At fierce Sidero’s word the thral… And shore the locks of Tyro,—like… They fell in golden harvest,—but f… The maiden shuddered in her pain a…

“What did the dark-haired Iberian… Aryan drove him into the corners o… I am an ancient Jest! Palæolithic man In his arboreal nest

Down by yon garden green, Sae merrily as she gaes; She has twa weel-made feet, And she trips upon her taes. She has twa weel-made feet;

AS one that for a weary space has… Lull’d by the song of Circe and h… In gardens near the pale of Prose… Where that Aeaean isle forgets th… And only the low lutes of love com…

Dark, dark was the day when we loo… And chill was the mist drop that c… The oats of the harvest hung heavy… No light on the land and no wind o… There was wind, there was rain, th…