The ten hours’ light is abating, And a late bird flies across, Where the pines, like waltzers wai… Give their black heads a toss. Beech leaves, that yellow the noon…

Where once we danced, where once w… Gentlemen, The floors are sunken, cobwebs han… And cracks creep; worms have fed u… The doors. Yea, sprightlier times…

Con the dead page as 'twere live l… Cold wisdom’s words will ease thy… Aye, go; cast off sweet ways, and… To biting blasts that are intent o… But if thy object Fame’s far summ…

To M. H. WE passed where flag and flower Signalled a jocund throng; We said: “Go to, the hour Is apt!”—and joined the song;

Bother Bulleys, let us sing    From the dawn till evening! - For we know not that we go not    When the day’s pale pinions fol…    Unto those who sang of old.

Here by the moorway you returned, And saw the borough lights ahead That lit your face - all undiscern… To be in a week the face of the de… And you told of the charm of that…

GOOD Father!... ’Twas an eve in… And war was waged anew By great Napoleon, who for years… Men’s bones all Europe through. Three nights ere this, with column…

This love puts all humanity from m… I can but maledict her, pray her d… For giving love and getting love o… Feeding a heart that else mine own… How much I love I know not, life…

For F. E. H. I sometimes think as here I sit Of things I have done, Which seemed in doing not unfit To face the sun:

Is it worth while, dear, now, To call for bells, and sally forth… For marriage-rites—discussed, decr…    So many years?    Is it worth while, dear, now,

O the opal and the sapphire of tha… And the woman riding high above wi… The woman whom I loved so, and wh… I I The pale mews plained below us, an…

“Soul! Shall I see thy face,” she…    "In one brief hour? And away with thee from a loveless… To a far-off sun, to a vine-wrapt… And be thine own unseparated,

Long have I framed weak phantasie…    O Willer masked and dumb!    Who makest Life become, - As though by labouring all-unknowi…    Like one whom reveries numb.

If seasons all were summers, And leaves would never fall, And hopping casement-comers Were foodless not at all, And fragile folk might be here