The Roman Road runs straight and… As the pale parting-line in hair Across the heath. And thoughtful… Contrast its days of Now and Then… And delve, and measure, and compar…

I opened my shutter at sunrise, And looked at the hill hard by, And I heartily grieved for the co… Who wandered up there to die. I let in the morn on the morrow,

Its roots are bristling in the air Like some mad Earth-god’s spiny h… The loud south-wester’s swell and… Smote it at midnight, and it fell.    Thus ends the tree

We are budding, master, budding, We of your favourite tree; March drought and April flooding Arouse us merrily. The stemlets brightly studding;

While the far farewell music thins… And the broad bottoms rip the bear… All smalling slowly to the gray se… And each significant red smoke-sha… Keen sense of severance everywhere…

O it was sad enough, weak enough,… Light in their loving as soldiers… First to risk choosing them, leave… Now, in far battle, beyond the So… —Rain came down drenchingly; but w…

PALE beech and pine-tree blue, Set in one clay, Bough to bough cannot you Bide out your day? When the rains skim and skip,

We walked where Victor Jove was s… And passed to Livia’s rich red mu… Whence, thridding cave and Cripto… We gained Caligula’s dissolving p… And each ranked ruin tended to beg…

I scanned her picture dreaming,    Till each dear line and hue Was imaged, to my seeming,    As if it lived anew. Her lips began to borrow

Sinking down by the gate I discer… And a blackbird tries over old air… But the moon is a sorry one, sad t… For this spot is unknown to that… Did my Heartmate but haunt here a…

YOUR troubles shrink not, though… Here, far away, than when I tarri… I even smile old smiles—with listl… Yet smiles they are, not ghastly m… A thought too strange to house wit…

“There is not much that I can do, For I’ve no money that’s quite my… Spoke up the pitying child— A little boy with a violin At the station before the train ca…

Here’s the mould of a musical bird… Which over the earth before man ca… There’s a contralto voice I heard… That lodges with me still in its s… Such a dream is Time that the coo…

(an Incident of Froom Valley) “THY husband—poor, poor Heart!—i… Dead, out by Moreford Rise; A bull escaped the barton-shed, Gored him, and there he lies!”