The modish Airs, The Tansey Brew, The SWAINS and FAIRS In curtained Pew; Nymphs KNELLER drew,

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

Here I’d come when weariest! Here the breast Of the Windburg’s tufted over Deep with bracken; here his crest Takes the west,

As, to the pipe, with rhythmic fee… In windings of some old-world danc… The smiling couples cross and meet… Join hands, and then in line advan… So, to these fair old tunes of Fr…

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…

Thine eyes are like the sea, my de… The wand’ring waters, green and gr… Thine eyes are wonderful and clear… And deep, and deadly, even as they… The spirit of the changeful sea

“And now am I greatly repenting t… ’Tis thought Odysseus when the st… With all the waves and wars, a wea… Grew restless in his disenchanted… And still would watch the sunset,…

Homer, thy song men liken to the s… With all the notes of music in its… With tides that wash the dim domin… Of Hades, and light waves that la… Around the isles enchanted; nay, t…

Dead—he is dead! The rouge has le… On that thin cheek where shone, pe… Even while the people laughed that… But yesterday. He died,—and not i… And many a black-robed caitiff sta…

The wail of Moschus on the mounta… The Muses heard, and loved it lon… They heard the hollows of the hill… They heard the weeping water’s ove… They winged the sacred strain—the…

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

The winter is upon us, not the sno… The hills are etched on the horizo… The skies are iron grey, a bitter… The meagre cloudlets shudder to an… One yellow leaf the listless wind…

Apollo left the golden Muse And shepherded a mortal’s sheep, Theocritus of Syracuse! To mock the giant swain that woo’s The sea-nymph in the sunny deep,

‘Once Cagn was like a father, kin… But He was spoiled by fighting ma… He wars upon the lions in the wood… And breaks the Thunder-bird’s tre… But still we cry to Him,—'We are…

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…

Ah, mystic child of Beauty, namel… Dateless and fatherless, how long… A Greek, with some rare sadness o… Shaped thee, perchance, and quite… Or Raphael thy sweetness did best…

The Fays that to my christ’ning c… (For come they did, my nurses taug… They did not bring me wealth or fa… ’Tis very little that they brought… But one, the crossest of the crew,

Mysterious Benedetta! who That Reynolds or that Romney drew Was ever half so fair as you, Or is so well forgot? These eyes of melancholy brown,

A pleasant land is Scribie, where The light comes mostly from below, And seems a sort of symbol rare Of things at large, and how they g… In rooms where doors are everywher…

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…

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…

The painted Briton built his moun… And left his celts and clay, On yon fair slope of sunlit ground That fronts your garden gay; The Roman came, he bore the sway,

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…

St. Andrews by the Northern sea, A haunted town it is to me! A little city, worn and grey, The grey North Ocean girds it rou… And o’er the rocks, and up the bay…

The call of homing rooks, the shri… Song of some bird that watches lat… The cries of children break the st… Sad twilight by the churchyard gat… And o’er your far-off tomb the gre…

Our youth began with tears and sig… With seeking what we could not fin… Our verses all were threnodies, In elegiacs still we whined; Our ears were deaf, our eyes were…

Just one cast more! how many a yea… Beside how many a pool and stream, Beneath the falling leaves and ser… I’ve sighed, reeled up, and dreame… Dreamed of the sport since April…

Light has flown! Through the grey The wind’s way The sea’s moan Sound alone!

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…

Between the moonlight and the fire In winter twilights long ago, What ghosts we raised for your des… To make your merry blood run slow! How old, how grave, how wise we gr…