When at home alone I sit And am very tired of it, I have just to shut my eyes To go sailing through the skies— To go sailing far away

I read, dear friend, in your dear… Your life’s tale told with perfect… The river of your life, I trace Up the sun-chequered, devious bed To the far-distant fountain-head.

When I am grown to man’s estate I shall be very proud and great, And tell the other girls and boys Not to meddle with my toys.

WOULDST thou be free? I think… But if thou wouldst, attend this s… When quite contented }thou canst d… Thou shall be free when } And drink a small wine of the marc…

I, WHOM Apollo sometime visited… Or feigned to visit, now, my day b… Do slumber wholly; nor shall know… The weariness of changes; nor perc… Immeasurable sands of centuries

The year runs through her phases;… Springtime and summer pass; winter… But one pale season rules the hous… Cold falls the imprisoned daylight… By each lean pallet squats, and pa…

TO friends at home, the lone, the… The gracious old, the lovely young… The fair, December the beloved, These from my blue horizon and gre… These from this pinnacle of distan…

Once only by the garden gate Our lips we joined and parted. I must fulfil an empty fate And travel the uncharted. Hail and farewell! I must arise,

As the single pang of the blow, wh… Rings and lives and resounds in al… So the thunder above spoke with a… So in the heart of the mountain th… Sudden the thunder was drowned —qu…

There are men and classes of men t… common herd: the soldier, the sail… unfrequently; the artist rarely; r… the physician almost as a rule. H… is) of our civilisation; and when…

SINCE thou hast given me this go… That while my footsteps tread the… And the great woods embower me, an… And purple even sweetly lead me on From day to day, and night to nigh…

WHEN my young lady has grown gre… And in long raiment wondrously arr… She may take pleasure with a smile… How she delighted men—folk long ag… For her long after, then, this tal…

The lamps now glitter down the str… Faintly sound the falling feet; And the blue even slowly falls About the garden trees and walls. Now in the falling of the gloom

I KNOW not how, but as I count The beads of former years, Old laughter catches in my throat With the very feel of tears.