How often have the critics, traine… To look upon the sky Through telescopes securely chaine… Forgot the naked eye. Within the compass of their glass

There is a village in a southern l… By rounded hills closed in on ever… The streets slope steeply to the m… Long lines of white-washed houses,… With roofs irregular, and steps of…

Gone is the glory from the hills, The autumn sunshine from the mere, Which mourns for the declining yea… In all her tributary rills. A sense of change obscurely chills

The city once again doth wear Her wonted dress of winter’s bride… Her mantle woven of misty air, With saffron sunlight faintly dyed… She sits above the seething tide,

with apologies to Lord Tennyson O swallow-tailed purveyor of colle… O skilled to please the student fr… Most honoured publican of Scotlan… Milton, a name to adorn the Cross…

Oh for the nights when we used to… In the firelight’s glow or flicker… With the gas turned low and our pi… And the air fast growing thicker; When you, enthroned in the big arm…

Long since I came into the school… A child in works, but not a child… Slowly I learn, by her instructio… To be in works a man, in heart a c…

Brown was my friend, and faithful—… He came to see me in the twilight… I rose politely and invited him To take a seat—how heavily he sat! He sat upon the sofa, where my hat…

St. Andrews! not for ever thine s… Merely the shadow of a mighty name… The remnant only of an ancient fam… Which time has crumbled, as thy ro… For thou, to whom was given the ea…

Never was sun so bright before, No matin of the lark so sweet, No grass so green beneath my feet, Nor with such dewdrops jewelled o’… I stand with thee outside the door…

I met him down upon the pier, His eyes were wild and sad, And something in them made me fear That he was going mad. So, being of a prudent sort,

Let me sleep. The day is past, And the folded shadows keep Weary mortals safe and fast. Let me sleep. I am all too tired to weep

The rain had fallen, the Poet aro… He passed through the doorway into… A strong wind lifted his hat from… And he uttered some words that wer… And then he started to follow the…

I made a truce last night with So… The queen of tears, the foe of sle… To keep her tents until the morrow… Nor send such dreams to make me we… Before the lusty day was springing…

Be ye happy, if ye may, In the years that pass away. Ye shall pass and be forgot, And your place shall know you not. Other generations rise,