Over the borders, a sin without pa… Breaking the branches and crawling… Out through the breach in the wall… Down by the banks of the river we… Here is a mill with the humming of…

Say not of me, that weakly I decl… The labours of my siers, and fled… The towers we founded and the lamp… To play at home with paper like a… But rather say: In the afternoon…

THIS girl was sweeter than the s… And daintier than the lamb upon th… Or Curine oyster. She, the flower… Outshone the light of Erythraean… The teeth of India that with poli…

LONG TIME I LAY IN LIT… LONG time I lay in little ease Where, placed by the Turanian, Marseilles, the many—masted, sees The blue Mediterranean.

From breakfast on through all the… At home among my friends I stay, But every night I go abroad Afar into the land of Nod. All by myself I have to go,

MOTLEY I count the only wear That suits, in this mixed world, t… Who boldly smile upon despair And shake their bells in Grandam… Singers should sing with such a go…

Yet, O stricken heart, remember,… How of human days he lived the bet… April came to bloom and never dim… Breathed its killing chills upon t… Doomed to know not winter, only S…

FAIR Isle at Sea —thy lovely na… Soft in my ear like music came. That sea I loved, and once or twi… I touched at isles of Paradise.

Go, little book, and wish to all Flowers in the garden, meat in the… A bin of wine, a spice of wit, A house with lawns enclosing it, A living river by the door,

SO live, so love, so use that fra… That when the dark hand of the shi… Shall one from other, wife or husb… The poor survivor may not weep and…

I HAVE left all upon the shamefu… Honour and Hope, my God, and all… Spurless, with sword reversed and… Degraded and disgraced, I leave t… From him that hath not, shall ther…

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.

In dreams, unhappy, I behold you… As heretofore: The unremembered tokens in your ha… Avail no more. No more the morning glow, no more…

Sing me a song of a lad that is go… Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye. Mull was astern, Rum on the port,

T last she comes, O never more In this dear patience of my pain To leave me lonely as before, Or leave my soul alone again.