Had I but plenty of money, money… The house for me, no doubt, were a… Ah, such a life, such a life, as o… Something to see, by Bacchus, som… There, the whole day long, one’s l…

He. AH, the bird-like fluting Through the ash-tops yonder— Bullfinch-bubblings, soft sounds s… What sweet thoughts, I wonder? Fine-pearled notes that surely

Christ God who savest man, save m… Of men Count Gismond who saved me… Count Gauthier, when he chose his… Chose time and place and company To suit it; when he struck at leng…

ON WHICH THE JEWS WER… ATTEND AN ANNUAL CHR… IN ROME. ['Now was come about Holy-Cross… and now must my lord preach his fi…

O the old wall here! How I could… Life in a long midsummer day, My feet confined to a plot of gras… My eyes from a wall not once away! And lush and lithe do the creepers…

Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! Rescue my Castle, before the hot… Brightens the blue from its silver… (Chorus) “Boot, saddle, to horse,… Ride past the suburbs, asleep as y…

Nay but you, who do not love her, Is she not pure gold, my mistress? Holds earth aught—speak truth—abov… Aught like this tress, see, and th… And this last fairest tress of all…

YOU saw go up and down Valladoli… A man of mark, to know next time y… His very serviceable suit of black Was courtly once and conscientious… And many might have worn it, thoug…

OUT of your whole life give but a… All of your life that has gone bef… All to come after it,—so you ignor… So you make perfect the present,—c… In a rapture of rage, for perfecti…

First I salute this soil of the b… Gods of my birthplace, dæmons and… Then I name thee, claim thee for… —Ay, with Zeus the Defender, with… Also, ye of the bow and the buskin…

(_Epilogue to ‘The Two Poets of… What a pretty tale you told me Once upon a time —Said you found it somewhere (scol… Was it prose or was it rhyme,

A. You blame me that I ran away? Why, Sir, the enemy advanced: Balls flew about, and—who can say But one, if I stood firm, had gla… In my direction? Cowardice?

AN OLD STORY. It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like… The house-roofs seemed to heave an… The church-spires flamed, such fla…

To whom but you, dear Friend, should I dedicate verses—some few written, all of them supervised, in the comfort of your presence, and with yet another experience of the gracious hospita...

That fawn-skin-dappled hair of her… And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of he… II.