To—night the winds begin to rise And roar from yonder dropping day: The last red leaf is whirl’d away, The rooks are blown about the skie… The forest crack’d, the waters cur…

King Arthur made new knights to f… Left by the Holy Quest; and as he… In hall at old Caerleon, the high… Were softly sundered, and through… Pelleas, and the sweet smell of th…

Thy voice is heard thro’ rolling d… That beat to battle where he stand… Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands: A moment, while the trumpets blow,

That story which the bold Sir Bed… First made and latest left of all… Told, when the man was no more tha… In the white winter of his age, to… With whom he dwelt, new faces, oth…

Ask me no more: the moon may draw… The cloud may stoop from heaven an… With fold to fold, of mountain or… But O too fond, when have I answe… Ask me no more.

Dip down upon the northern shore O sweet new-year delaying long; Thou doest expectant nature wrong; Delaying long, delay no more. What stays thee from the clouded n…

“So careful of the type?” but no. From scarped cliff and quarried st… She cries, “A thousand types are… I care for nothing, all shall go. ”Thou makest thine appeal to me:

'There sinks the nebulous star we… If that hypothesis of theirs be so… Said Ida; ‘let us down and rest;’… Down from the lean and wrinkled pr… By every coppice-feathered chasm a…