Grief hath pacified her face; Even hope might share so still a p… Yet, on the silence of her heart, Haply, if a strange footfall start… Or a chance word of ecstasy

While at her bedroom window once, Learning her task for school, Little Louisa lonely sat In the morning clear and cool, She slanted her small bead-brown e…

The seas of England are our old d… Let the loud billow of the shingly… Sing freedom on her breezes evermo… To all earth’s ships that sailing… The gaunt sea-nettle be our fortit…

The old Pig said to the little pi… ‘In the forest is truffles and mas… Follow me then, all ye little pigs… Follow me fast!’ The Charcoal-burner sat in the sh…

Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoo… This way, and that, she peers, and… Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch

My mind is like a clamorous market… All day in wind, rain, sun, its ba… Voice answering to voice in tumult… Chaffering and laughing, pushing f… My thoughts haste on, gay, strange…

Wide are the meadows of night, And daisies are shinng there, Tossing their lovely dews, Lustrous and fair; And through these sweet fields go,

Hi! Handsome hunting man, Fire your little gun, Bang! Now that animal Is dead and dumb and done. Never more to peep again, creep ag…

I was at peace until you came And set a careless mind aflame; I lived in quiet; cold, content; All longing in safe banishment, Until your ghostly lips and eyes

Have you been catching fish, Tom… Have you snared a weeping hare? Have you whistled 'No Nunny’ and… Or blinded a bird of the air? Have you trod like a murderer thro…

Black lacqueys at the wide-flung d… Stand mute as men of wood. Gleams like a pool the ballroom fl… A burnished solitude. A hundred waxen tapers shine

Dim-berried is the mistletoe With globes of sheenless grey, The holly mid ten thousand thorns Smoulders its fires away; And in the manger Jesus sleeps

Puss loves man’s winter fire Now that the sun so soon Leaves the hours cold it warmed In burning June. She purrs full length before

See this house, how dark it is Beneath its vast-boughed trees! Not one trembling leaflet cries To that Watcher in the skies— ‘Remove, remove thy searching gaze…

In sea-cold Lyonesse, When the Sabbath eve shafts down On the roofs, walls, belfries Of the foundered town, The Nereids pluck their lyres