At close of June’s most burning d… We took a ship and sailed away: In mid-Potomac stream sailed we. To Old Point Comfort by the sea. The heavy hanging air of dusk

Bredon is a lonesome hill, It hasn’t any brothers ; It stands within the Severn vale, Apart from all the others. The Cotswold Hills go hand in han…

A RIPPLE and a rush, and a mati… And, oh! the month must be at May… A blossom and a tree, and a honey-… And, oh! it’s such a perfect day! A meeting and a smile, and a sunli…

Ring on! Oh endless vesper bell! What can you know of that deep He… Upon this Earth, where men may dw… Ring on! Your calling is in vain, What holy rite can lull the pain

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…

Once Youth and Innocence, side by… With flaming swords at a garden ga… Stood forth in silence, to watch a… Lest lust and evil their might def… Love’s rarest fruits in that garde…

Oh! why let all these winged days… Will you not give me leave with th… To taste the sweets of our new par… Beyond the outer dark where fate h… Must we for ever see the golden po…

Along the hills the olives grow. And almonds bloom in early Spring… And many are the streams that flow… And countless are the birds that s… The air is cool with distant snow,

Oh! City girls are pale-like, And proud-like, and cold-like. And nineteen out of twenty Have never been our way. I tells them of the tall hills.

Through the rustling river grasses Warm and sweet the young wind pass… Blowing shyly soft caresses To their dewy emerald tresses. All along the silver sands

In the meadows by the Avon, Underneath the slope of Bredon, There we often used to wander, My girl and I. All around the thrushes singing.

‘ Oh! bother,’ sang the thrush, ‘I’m in an awful rush, For I’ve got to get ready for the… With feathers from my breast, I’ll line a cosy nest,

I weave my verses of smiles and te… Gathered and shed for you, I bind them up in the hopes of yea… Dear, will you read them through? I write my ballads of joy and pain…

The world has grown unreal to-day Far out upon the Zuyder Zee! We drift towards a mystic isle, With scarce a breath of wind the w… I hear the murmur of the tide,