The world that thro’ its vale of t… Looks out upon Eternity Has yet one smile for us, and we Still youthful in the count of yea… May add our smiles, and kiss the l…

I turn’d to you, the sky was amber… Blue haze and flaming bracken stre… In undulating mystery to the day, Reclining that the evening might b… And hide her softly 'neath his sta…

The sea was witness of the words y… She hushed her every tide that she… Your whispered love, and while you… My bosom, laying down your weary h… To rest thereon—the corals in thei…

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…

Without what desolation! mist and… And weeping trees, and roses that… While still in blossom, till the a… Lies low, and speechless, and benu… An early twilight hyies the gentle…

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,

I MIND me of the hawthorn trees, With cuckoos flying near ; The hawthorn blossoms smelt so swe… The cuckoo called so clear! The hill was steep enough to climb…

July 23rd, 1906 Across the hills a tender shadow s… Like thought upon the face of one… And thro’ the silence rang some di… A vague sweet music in its every t…

Sunlight and shade, Moorland and glade, Evening and day, Winter and May, Troubadour breeze,

Oh! golden is the gorse-bush. Beneath an April sky, The lark is full of singing, The clouds are white and high ; But my love, my love is faithless.

Ah! why have I built my Castle On the shifting golden sand? On the shores of the hungry ocean Instead of the safe highland? I ask myself, and I answer

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!

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,

To-day I hate that bitter creed, Whereby the groaning soul is taugh… That God Almighty finds the need Of pain, ere true salvation 's wro… Dear God, who did create the tree…