‘These things are real,’ said one,… On black and mighty shapes of iron… On murder, on madness, on lust, on… And on a thing made all of rattlin… ‘What,’ said he, ‘will you bring t…

Singing go I, seeking for ever a… Sung long ago; I ask no more to h… Her voice that sang-for I should… Had I the power, to bring her onc… Near to the earth, its sorrow or i…

My dryad hath her hiding place Among ten thousand trees. She flies to cover At step of a lover, And where to find her lovely face

Silence, whose drowsy eyelids are… And whose half-sleeping eyes are t… On whose still breast the water-li… For all her speech the whisper of… Made of all things that in the wat…

Face with the forest eyes, And the wayward wild-wood hair, How shall a man be wise, When a girl’s so fair; How, with her face once seen,

(FOR MR, G. F. WATTS’S P… Mammon is this, of murder and of g… To-day, to-morrow, and ever from o… Th’ Almighty God, and King of ev… Man ‘neath his foot, and woman ’ne…

Bees make their honey out of colou… Through the June day, with all it… Heather of breezy hills, and idle… Brushing soft doors of every bloss… Filling gold thighs in drowsy ravi…

AH, London! London! our delight, Great flower that opens but at nig… Great City of the midnight sun, Whose day begins when day is done. Lamp after lamp against the sky

Don’t you love the eyes that come… The grey-blue eyes so strangely gr… The fighting loving eyes, The eyes that tell no lies– Don’t you love the eyes that come…

Water in hidden glens From the secret heart of the mount… Where the red fox hath its dens And the gods their crystal fountai… Up runnel and leaping cataract,

Sore in need was I of a faithful… And it seemed to me that life Had come to its much desired end– Just then God gave me a wife. I had seen the beauty of fairy thi…

I am so fair that wheresoe’er I w… Men yearn with strange desire to k… Stretch out their hands to touch m… And women follow me from place to… A poet writing honey of his dear

I read there is a man who sits apa… A sort of human spider in his den, Who meditates upon a fearful art— The swiftest way to slay his fello… Behind a mask of glass he dreams h…

All beauty is but thee in echo-sha… No lovely thing but echoes some of… Vainly some touch of thy perfectio… Sighing as fair as thou thyself to… Therefore, be not disquieted that…

‘Yes, Sir, she’s gone at last-'tw… We heard her sigh from her corner,… We were all just busy on breakfast… Had just gone into the larder-but… Right up in the garret, sir, for i…