To-day I heard the cuckoo call. Atop of Bredon Hill, I heard him near the blackthorn bu… And Oh! my heart stood still! For it was just a year ago,

The sun has set; Beloved see that… Wan with desire, pale in the after… Above the hill top hanging very lo… As though she stooped from her hig… To kiss this earth, because she lo…

A drop of dew that on a rose-bud c… A ray of sunshine in a world of S… A bird, who singing from some hidd… Is bathed in streams of endless me… An open flower you trod on as you…

Hot with the ardour of the sun, Whose burning lips had slain the n… The golden pallor of the moon Was but an added fire, o’ercome With memories she swooned away,

Give me your hands to hold, For the night and the wind are col… And the year ‘s growing sad and ol… So give me your hands to hold. Give me your lips to press,

O Raggedstone, you darksome hiU, Your shadow fell for sure Upon my own dear love and I, Across the purple moor. For we were such a happy pair,

The blossoms of a Judas tree Deep pink against an azure sea, A silver moth on thoughtless vving… A hidden bird that hghts to sing, A little cloud that wanders by.

Oh! come to London, young lad, Lots is to be seen! But he said: ‘I cannot come, maid… Till the cuckoos all be dumb, maid… On the hills of green.’

The thought of you has filled the… The dawn with praise, Till all my senses thrill, like ro… The morning’s rays. This love of ours has clad with ne…

Song Butterfly, butterfly, where are yo… ‘Over the roses into the sky.’ Butterfly, butterfly, there is no… When you’ll come back again, so go…

Come with me, sweetheart, into It… And press the burning goblet of th… To those cold northern lips, until… Relents beneath its draft of ecsta… Drink in the sun, made liquid in t…

What have we missed, we two— You and I—I and you— Of sorrow, and pain, and tears, Of doubt, and of passionate fears, Of madness, and badness, these yea…

High above a waveless sea, On the hills of long ago. There you lived awhile with me. And we loved—I know. For your hair I made a crown,

If not from Phaon I must hope for… Ah! let me seek it from the raging… To raging seas unpitied I’ll remo… And either cease to live or cease… Ovid’s Heroic Epistle, XV.

Once o’er this hill whereon we sta… Just you and I, hand clasp’d in h… Amid the silence, and the space, A mighty battle rent the air, With dying curse and choking praye…