I have been urged by earnest violi… And drunk their mellow sorrows to… Of all my sorrows and my thirsting… My heart has beaten for a brave dr… Huge chords have wrought me mighty…

His fingers wake, and flutter up t… His eyes come open with a pull of… Helped by the yellow may—flowers b… A blind—cord drawls across the win… How smooth the floor of the ward i…

So the church Christ was hit and… Under its rubbish and its rubble. In cellars, packed—up saints long… Well out of hearing of our trouble… One Virgin still immaculate

Hush, thrush! Hush, missen—thrush… I heard the flush of footsteps thr… And a low whistle by the water’s b… Still! Daffodil! Nay, hail me not… Your gay gold lily daunts me and d…

Ever again to breathe pure happine… So happy that we gave away our toy… We smiled at nothings, needing no… Have we not laughed too often sinc… Have we not stolen too strange and…

O World of many worlds, O life of… What centre hast thou? Where am I… O whither is it thy fierce onrush… Fight I, or drift; or stand; or f… The loud machinery spins, points w…

Halted against the shade of a last… They fed, and, lying easy, were at… And, finding comfortable chests an… Carelessly slept. But many there… To face the stark, blank sky beyon…

'You! What d’you mean by this?' I… ‘You dare come on parade like this… 'Please, sir, it’s—' ‘Old yer mou… ‘I takes ’is name, sir?'—'Please,… Some days 'confined to camp’ he go…

His face was charged with beauty a… With glimmering lightning. When i… I shook, and was uneasy as a tree That draws the brilliant danger, t… So must I tempt that face to loos…

Red lips are not so red As the stained stones kissed by th… Kindness of wooed and wooer Seems shame to their love pure. O Love, your eyes lose lure

Bugles sang, saddening the evening… And bugles answered, sorrowful to… Voices of boys were by the river—s… Sleep mothered them; and left the… The shadow of the morrow weighed o…

All sounds have been as music to m… Pacific lamentations of slow bells… The crunch of boots on blue snow r… Shuffle of autumn leaves; and all… Bugles that sadden all the evening…

It is not death Without hereafter To one in dearth Of life and its laughter, Nor the sweet murder