I RODE through Eastnor woods to… And all the air did promise May, Did promise May till every tree Found voice to make much melody. And oh, the primi-ose flowers! the…

The day our dead are laid to rest We heap the earth upon their breas… Upon the earth we set a stone. And then we leave them all alone. Some folks they weep, and some the…

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…

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…

The moon has risen from her cloudy… And soared serenely into cloudless… White as a lily in a haze of dew, Pale lady, to the Summer Darkness… She leaves her nuptial couch, by b…

O Casend Hill, I be so heavy-hea… So lonesome-hke since from my love… That when the bracken on your side… And all the mating thrushes start… A kind of fear across my mind come…

Malvern I rose, ere yet the eager light Had wrested from the grasp of nigh… The trembling spirit of the world. The dusk of dawn with wistful eyes

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.

The clustering grapes of purple vi… Are crushed to make the crimson wi… The poppies in the grasses deep Are crushed to brew the draught of… The roses, when their glories bloo…

The road that leads to Ledbury Oh! it be such a pretty way. As far as Wales you’ll likely see… Suppose the month be May. The little birds they sing and sin…

Why kinder to the breeze than unto… For oft you let him play within yo… Blow its soft curls about, and fin… The while he whispers low and tend… Into your ear; and yet how cold is…

There are two happy birds in the t… There are two happy stars in the s… There are two happy waves in the s… There are two happy clouds driftin… There are two happy mortals, since…

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…

O Italy of chiming bells, Of pilgrim shrines and holy wells, Of incense mist and secret prayers… Profound and sweet as scented airs Blown from a field of lily flowers…

I BE hopin’ you remember, Now the Spring has come again, How we used to gather violets By the Uttle church at Eastnor, For we were so happy then!