In the Morning of Time, when his… How bleak, how un-Greek, was the… From his wigwam, if ever he ventur… There was nobody waiting to welcom… For the Man had been made, but th…

None elder city doth the Sun beho… Than ancient Lycosura; ’twas begu… Ere Zeus the meat of mortals lear… And here hath he a grove whose hau… The driven deer seek and huntsmen…

Oh, where are the endless Romance… Our grandmothers used to adore? The Knights with their helms and… Their shields and the favours they… And the Monks with their magical…

My Love dwelt in a Northern land. A gray tower in a forest green Was hers, and far on either hand The long wash of the waves was see… And leagues on leagues of yellow s…

Ye giant shades of RA and TUM, Ye ghosts of gods Egyptian, If murmurs of our planet come To exiles in the precincts wan Where, fetish or Olympian,

(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…

Now the bright crocus flames, and… The slim narcissus takes the rain, And, straying o’er the mountain’s… The daffodilies bud again. The thousand blossoms wax and wane

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,

Not Jason nor Medea wise, I crave to see, nor win much lore, Nor list to Orpheus’ minstrelsies… Nor Her’cles would I see, that o’… The wide world roamed from shore t…

Whan he cam to his ain luve’s boui… He tirled at the pin, And sae ready was his fair fause l… To rise and let him in. ‘O welcome, welcome, Sir Roland,’…

The soft wind from the south land… He set his strength to blow, From forests where Adonis bled, And lily flowers a-row: He crossed the straits like stream…

Rob Roy from the Highlands cam, Unto the Lawlan’ border, To steal awa a gay ladie To haud his house in order. He cam oure the lock o’ Lynn,

There was a knight and lady bright Set trysts amo the broom, The one to come at morning eav, The other at afternoon. ‘I’ll wager a wager wi’ you,' he s…

My heart’s an old Spinet with str… To laughter chiefly tuned, but som… That Fate has practised hard on,… They answer not whoever sings. The ghosts of half-forgotten thing…

Alas, for us no second spring, Like mallows in the garden-bed, For these the grave has lost his s… Alas, for us no second spring, Who sleep without awakening,