Lads in the loose blue, Crutched, with limping feet, With bandaged arm, that roam To—day the bustling street, You humble us with your gaze,

Low is laid Arthur’s head, Unknown earth above him mounded; By him sleep his splendid knights, With whose names the world resound… Ruined glories! flown delights,

Beautifully dies the year. Silence sleeps upon the mere: Yellow leaves float on it, stilly As, in June, the opened lily. Brushing o’er the frosty grass

In misty blue the lark is heard Above the silent homes of men; The bright-eyed thrush, the little… The yellow-billed sweet-voiced bla… Mid sallow blossoms blond as curd

Woe to him that has not known the… Who has not felt within him burnin… Of desolated bosoms, since the wor… Felt, as his own, the burden of th… Who has not eaten failure’s bitter…

I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, a… From rail-track and from highway,… In field and farmstead many an anc… Of local lineage like ‘Thu bist,’… ‘Ich woll,’ ‘Er sholl,’ and by-ta…

Out of the pale night air, From wandering lone in the warm sc… The sighing, shadowy, bright solit… Of leafy glade, and the rough upla… To thee I come, a branch

Name, that makes my heart beat, Heard by chance in the throng’d st… How delighted I turn to greet The vision adored, the vision rare… That surely should be where thou a…

Tremulous out of that long darknes… Wast thou, O blossom, made Upon the wintry bough? What drew thee to appear, Like a thought in the mind,

Give me your hand, Beloved! I can… So close from shadowy—branching tr… Dark leaves hang over us. How vas… Night sleeps! and yet a murmur, a… Sighed out of mystery, steals slow…

In the shadow of a broken house, Down a deserted street, Propt walls, cold hearths, and pha… And the silence of dead feet— Locked wildly in one another’s arm…

For Mercy, Courage, Kindness, Mi… There is no measure upon earth. Nay, they wither, root and stem, If an end be set to them. Overbrim and overflow,

Tristram lies sick to death; Dulled is his kingly eye, Listless his famed right arm: eart… Hath force alone to sigh The one name that re—kindles life’…

Green banks and gliding river! What air from what far place Comes down your waters’ face And makes your willows shiver? Over me stole a spell,

Fir, that on this moor austere, Without kin or neighbour near, Utterest now bleak winter’s moan As if its vext soul were thine own… Unbefriended, placed like thee,