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…

Ah, listen through the music, from… The 'melancholy long-withdrawing r… Beneath the Minster, and the wind… The wide North Ocean, marshalling… Even so forlorn—in worlds beyond o…

O Rose the Red and White Lilly, Their mother dear was dead, And their father married an ill wo… Wishd them twa little guede. Yet she had twa as fu fair sons

I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow lo… An’ a cow low down in yon glen; Lang, lang will my young son greet… Or his mither bid him come ben. I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow lo…

The gypsies came to our good lord’… And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very c… That down came the fair lady. And she came tripping doun the sta…

It fell on a day, and a bonnie sum… When the corn grew green and yello… That there fell out a great disput… Between Argyle and Airly. The Duke o’ Montrose has written…

Villanelle, why art thou mute? Hath the singer ceased to sing? Hath the Master lost his lute? Many a pipe and scrannel flute On the breeze their discords fling…

HE sat among the woods; he heard The sylvan merriment; he saw The pranks of butterfly and bird, The humors of the ape, the daw. And in the lion or the frog,—

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

Now the light of the sun, in the n… Shines, and their city is girt wit… And deep is the shade of the woods… Sings of the sea, and is sweet fro… Green is their garden and orchard,…

AH! leave the smoke, the wealth,… Of London, leave the bustling str… For still, by the Sicilian shore, The murmur of the Muse is sweet. Still, still, the suns of summer g…

When these Old Plays were new, th… Beside the Cardinal’s chair, Applauded, 'mid the courtly ring, The verses of Moliere; Point-lace was then the only wear,

“‘Dead and gone,’—a sorry burden o… Say, fair maids, maying In gardens green, In deep dells straying, What end hath been

The sacred keep of Ilion is rent By shaft and pit; foiled waters wa… Through plains where Simois and S… To war with Gods and heroes long… Not yet to tired Cassandra, lying…

This morning I vowed I would brin… They were thrust in the band that… But the breast-knots were broken,… The breast-knots were broken; the… Floated forth on the wings of the…