The fight I loved—the good old fi… Was clear as day ‘twixt Might and… Satrap and slave on either hand, Tiller and tyrant of the land; One delved the earth the other tro…

This is all that is left—this lett… And do you, poor dreaming things,… That your little fire shall burn f… And this great fire be, all but th… Flower! of course she is—but is sh…

The peril of fair faces all his da… No man shall 'scape: be it for joy… Each is the thrall of some predest… Divinely doomed to work his overth… Transiently fair, as flowers in ga…

_Illius est nobis lege colendus am… On her own terms, O lover, must t… The heart’s beloved: be she kind,… Cruel, expect no more; not for thy… But for the fire in thee that melt…

O loveliest face, on which we look… Not without hope we may again beho… Somewhere, somehow, when we oursel… Where, Lucy, you have gone, this… That gathered beauty every changin…

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,

When winter comes and takes away t… And all the singing of sweet birds… The warm and honeyed world lost de… Still, independent of the summer s… In vain, with sullen roar,

What shall I sing when all is sun… And every tale is told, And in the world is nothing young That was not long since old? Why should I fret unwilling ears

A battered swordsman, slashed and… I scarce had thought to fight agai… But love of the old game dies hard… So to’t, my lady, if you’re fain! I’m scarce the mettle to refrain,

Brother that ploughs the furrow I… God give thee grace, and fruitful… Tis fair sweet earth, be it under… And all about it ever the birds si… Yet do I pray your seed fares not…

How thick the grass, How green the shade– All for love And lovers made. Wood-lilies white

Face in the tomb, that lies so sti… May I draw near, And watch you sleep and love you, Without word or tear? You smile, your eyelids flicker;

Simple am I, I care no whit For pelf or place, It is enough for me to sit And watch Dulcinea’s face; To mark the lights and shadows fli…

When the spring comes again, will… Three springs I watched and waite… And listened for your voice upon t… I sought for you in many a hidden… Saying, ‘She must be there.’

My head is at your feet, Two Cytherean doves, The same, O cruel sweet, As were the Queen of Love’s; They brush my dreaming brows