Kind Earth, upon whose mother bre… The fruitful trees in time of spri… Put forth their endless blossoming From North to South, from East t… Whose sweet deep-furrowed soil is…

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,

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.

The hillside green with bracken. And the red plough land, The brownish hurrying rivers, Where the willows stand. The thickets and the meadows.

Ah! Faith, I’d barter all I own… But one brief moment of your magic… Whereby my spirit freed from earth… Might spread its wings towards imm… Is there no wisdom but it steals o…

(Sidmouth) Evening upon the calm sweet sea, A little wind asleep, Dim sails that drift as tranquilly As dreams in slumber deep.

A little white Cloud loved the Mo… She hung in the sky all day, And gazed with rather a timid smil… To where, beneath her full many a… The earth and the loved one lay.

At the early break of day, When the river mists grow pink. And the moon begins to sink, Down along the southern way ; When the gold mimosa tree

Crush these voluptuous grapes betw… Your small, strong teeth! and let… Be offered in a sacrificial rain Of sun-warmed essence; while I tw… Of all their leaves, and place it…

And so we closed the book, wherein… How many words of ecstasy and pain… How oft repeated passion’s deep re… Like ebb and flow of tide, whose e… Upon the hearing of our listening…

Oh! the long green lanes of Engla… They be very far away, And it’s there that I’d be walkin… ‘Mid the hawthorn and the may. Where the trees are all in blossom…

Oh! that the night were passed, an… Made lovely by the joy of spring, Would flood these sombre clouds wi… Oh! that some hopeful bird would s… And in his tiny feathered throat

‘ Swift away, swift away,’ Sang the fickle swallow, Oh! the fickle swallow, Flying to the sun! ‘Come, my little brothers,

A FIELD of scented clover That honey-bees hang over, A hazel-wood in Spring, Where thrush and robin sing. A stream that seaward flows.

Oh! hadst thou kindly arms that co… While yet I live, sweet Earth, co… Unto thy bosom, thou, my fruitful… Oh! hadst thou human lips for soft… To meet mine own in some pure kiss…