Of all the wind-blown dust of face… Had I a god’s re-animating breath… Thee, like a perfumed torch in the… Lethean and the eyeless halls of d… Would I relume; the cresset of th…

Morn hath a secret that she never… ’Tis on her lips and in her maiden… I think it is the way to Paradise… Or of the Fount of Youth the crys… The bee hath no such honey in her…

Stream that leapt and danced Down the rocky ledges, All the summer long, Past the flowered sedges, Under the green rafters,

One asked of regret, And I made reply: To have held the bird, And let it fly; To have seen the star

Lightnings may flicker round my he… And all the world seem doom, If you, like a wild rose, will wal… Strangely into the room. If only my sad heart may hear

(WESTMINSTER, OCTOBER 12,… Great man of song, whose glorious… Within the lap of death sleeps wel… Down the dark road, seeking the de… Thy faithful, fearless, shining so…

O golden day! O silver night! That brought my own true love at l… Ah, wilt thou drop from out our si… And drown within the past? One wave, no more, in life’s wide…

Must I believe this beauty wholly… That in her picture here so deathl… And must I henceforth speak of he… Tells of some face of legend or of… Still here and there remembered-sc…

The valiant girls—of them I sing— Who daily to their business go, Happy as larks, and fresh as sprin… They are the bravest things I kno… At eight, from out my lazy tower,

(TO JOHN FRASER) There, in my mind’s-eye, pure it l… My lodger’s vote! ’Twas mine to-d… It seemed a sort of maidenhood, My little power for public good,—

The beauty of this rainy day, All silver-green and dripping gray… Has stolen quite my heart away From all the tasks I meant to do, Made me forget the resolute blue

A little book, this grim November… Wherein, O tired heart, to creep… Come drink this wine and wear this… Nor heed the world, nor what the w… A thousand gardens-yet to-day ther…

Winter that hath few friends yet n… Of spirit erect and delicate of ey… All may applaud sweet Summer, wit… And Autumn, with her banners in t… But when from the earth’s cheek th…

In vain with whip and knotted cord The hirelings of hypocrisy Would make us comely for the Lord… Think ye God works through such a… Paid Puritan, plump Pharisee,

Is it your face I see, your voice… Your face, your voice, again after… O is your cheek once more against… And is this blessed rain, angel, y… You have come back,-how strange-ou…