As I walked through London, The fresh wound burning in my brea… As I walked through London, Longing to have forgotten, to hard… A sudden consolation, a softening…

High over the battling street I watch the wind blow In frenzy tearing the plane trees That are tossing below. The high balcony’s railing

Along the deep shelve of the aband… Bowed, with slow pace and careful… The track they travel, move an age… The full voice of the Atlantic ho… In turbulent uproar:

The little waves fall in the wintr… On idle sands along the bitter sho… The piling clouds are all a pale s… They tarry and are moved no more. Thin rushes tremble about the nake…

2nd Lieut., Cinque Ports Battali… Strong, loyal—souled, full—hearted… Only remembering love knows all he… Beautiful be the stars above his g…

The rains of yesterday are flown, And light is on the farthest hills… The homeliest rough grass by the s… To radiance thrills; And the wet bank above the ditch,

Who are these that come from the e… Coming as the swallows come out of… In the glory of Spring? They are… With purpose in the eyes, with a s… These are they who have left the f…

O what magic shall compare Of the fresh earth or bright air To the joy that love around My full heart so swift has wound, Far beyond hope’s trembling flight

And were they but for this, those… Of joy, that I have nursed? indee… That longings, day and night, have… Now it has come, the hour of bliss… How different it seems!

In the high leaves of a walnut, On the very topmost boughs, A boy that climbed the branching b… His cradled limbs would house. On the airy bed that rocked him

My spirit to—day that sprang To meet the laughing morn Is clouded and forlorn And chafes with hidden pang. For teasing care and fret

Sleep, sleep on Mother’s breast, Child, my child! Close within my arms be pressed. O the world is vast and wild, Filled with hurt and war and cries…

Gray the slow sky darkens Over the downland track Where the long valley closes Under a smooth hill’s back. The slope is darkly sprinkled

Through storm—blown gloom the subt… Shapes of tumultuous, ghostly clou… Trailing a dark shower from hill—d… Dawn, desolate in its majesty, is… But ere the wayside trees show lea…

Warm, the deserted evening Closes over the moor. Was it here we walked and were mer… Only an hour before? Magic light in the west