Oh! weary ghosts, be still! Sad spectres of long dead delights… Wan spirits of the days and nights Wherein of joy we drank our fill, Lie deep beneath the sod of years.

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…

Pale depth of sky, serene and wond… Within whose fold the lamps of ear… Shine far away and faintly luminou… Whose pensive tones merge from the… Into this colour indescribable ;

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.

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…

To meet almost as strangers, who h… Such lovers in the past! no glad d… To thrill our senses, till the wro… For very joy—I wonder will your m… Be happy? it seems years since I…

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,

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…

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

Go, cold white pearls, with your l… The woman is waiting who longs to… But the rainbow light that within… But the soft cool touch of your sa… You are undefiled, and the price o…

If at some future day we two shoul… Stand face to face before the star… And pull from Love’s dead form th… That time has wound about from hea… I scarcely know what words would c…

What is the end of all sweet thing… Of these dawns and twilights and g… Of the rose that climbs, and the s… Of the breeze that sighs, and the… Dust and ashes and death?

If I should pray, my prayer would… For gratitude unlimited: For gratitude so vast and deep, That it would move my soul to weep Great tears, and all the words I…

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…

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