It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and caul… Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men,— ‘We maun draw to a hald. ’And whatna hald shall we draw to,

When strawberry pottles are common… Ere elms be black, or limes be ser… When midnight dances are murdering… Then comes in the sweet o’ the yea… And far from Fleet Street, far fr…

On these Nysæan shores divine The clusters ripen in a day. At dawn the blossom shreds away; The berried grapes are green and f… And full by noon; in day’s decline

Who have loved and ceased to love,… That ever they loved in their live… Only remember the fever and fret, And the pain of Love, that was al… All the delight of him passes away

In somer when the shawes be sheyne… And leves be large and longe, Hit is full mery in feyre foreste To here the foulys song. To se the dere draw to the dale,

How Œdipous departed, who may tell Save Theseus only? for there neit… The burning bolt of thunder, and t… To blast him into nothing, nor the… Of sea-tide spurred by tempest on…

Returning from what other seas Dost thou renew thy murmuring, Weak Tide, and hast thou aught of… To tell, the shores where float an… My love, my hope, my memories?

I have scribbled in verse and in p… I have painted “arrangements in gr… And my name is familiar to those Who take in the high class magazin… I compose; I’ve invented machines…

This life—one was thinking to-day, In the midst of a medley of fancie… Is a game, and the board where we… Green earth with her poppies and p… Let manque be faded romances,

In twilight of the longest day I lingered over Lucian, Till ere the dawn a dreamy way My spirit found, untrod of man, Between the green sky and the grey…

Friend, when you bear a care-dulle… And brow perplexed with things of… And fain would bid some charm unti… The bonds that hold you all too st… Behold a solace to your fate,

Ah lady, lady, leave the creeping… And leave the iron castle by the s… Nay, from the sea there came a gho… My lips, and so I cannot come to… Ah lady, leave the cruel landward…

‘O wha will shoe my fu’ fair foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will lace my middle jimp, Wi’ the new-made London band? ‘And wha will kaim my yellow hair,

Here stand my books, line upon lin… They reach the roof, and row by ro… They speak of faded tastes of mine… And things I did, but do not, kno… Old school books, useless long ago…

The graver by Apollo’s shrine, Before the Gods had fled, would s… A shell or onyx in his hand, To copy there the face divine, Till earnest touches, line by line…