The moon—frozen eye— Stares down stupidly, And the wind licks A few bare sticks, Once trees:

I AM not brave As others seem to be ; But, like a knave, I cringe in misery: I cannot face

JUNE! the joyous, sun-filled mon… When roses, emblems of a heaven, c… Strange melodies in garden and in… With blithesome birds that sing in… Of English lanes; and thousand ot…

A DIGGER he digs in the dark In the naked remains of a wood, For his friend that lies stiff and… On his head hard blood for a hood: The digging is painful and slow,

OUT, out into the wind-swept clea… Whose purple canopy, the sky, is b… With the soft splendour of the ful… And a thousand stars that mystical… Strange melodies upborne on the co…

Ah! when it rains all day And the sky is a mist That creeps by chillily Where sun once kissed, Like death pale shroud,

Think not of me as facing death, Tattered, labouring for breath ; Rather think of one who strays Dreaming dreams by perfumed ways. Soon I may die, ah! true, ’tis tr…

THE hour is drowsed with things o… That round my tottering senses cre… Like subtle wandering scents, so r… They might ensweeten fairies’ hair… And I am walking in a glade

Weak and faltering, drifting by, I pray Thee, Lord, take Thou the… No captain of my soul am I, Weak and faltering, drifting by! I do not ask Thee, Whither? Why?

It is not sweet to die for one’s c… I saw a dead man stinking in a tre… Where even flies would sicken with… Ah! is it sweet to die for one’s c… His face had rotted black as ebony…

It lay on the hill, A sack on its face, Collarless, Stiff and still, Its two feet bare

I HAVE leaned on God And have been comforted by Him: My fears have been allayed ; My terror of Death has been forgo… My frightened heart

The round moon hangs like a yellow… That lie like lace against the sil… Oh, still the night! Oh, hushed t… Surely God is nigh.

I WANDER in the dawn to where t… I hear the songs of singing birds;… I hear the faint hum of flies; and… All things fill my soul with prais… I do not ask for dim cathedral pla…

I HEAR a rat scurrying At the end o’ the street Across the moon-lit stones, hurryi… To dingier retreat— A ruined house against the moon,