Friends had he many, neighbours ne… Rowfant and Crabbet lay few field… Each Sunday saw him here, his chu… Duly stroll in to talk of books an… Entrapped, may—be, to share my mod…

I linger on the threshold of my yo… If you could see me now as then I… A fair—faced frightened boy with e… Scared at the world yet angry at i… Plotting all plots, a blushing Ca…

Dost thou remember, oh, dost thou… Here as we sit at home and take ou… How we went out one morning on a v… In the West? Hast thou forgotten, in these Eng…

Oh, pitiful awaking! What was Adr… That it had earned for him such bi… What his soul’s pride that its new… Should find its echo in a dirge li… The chaunters chaunting slow were…

All white, all light, all beautifu… Love in her eyes, a glory round he… Blanched as the lilies chaste in h… Even so God’s saints in their cel… Red only are her lips, ay, red as…

Pitiful gods! Have pity on my pas… Teach me the road how I a certain… Shall make to him I love of my gr… My faith unchanged, nor plead it i… Ah, is he weary of too full posses…

COLD COMFORT There is no comfort underneath the… Youth turns to age; riches are qui… Pride breeds us pain, our pleasure… The very courage which we count up…

How shall I ransom me? The world… Where once I lived in vain expens… Say, shall it welcome me in this l… Back to its bosom of forgotten joy… Sometimes I hear it whispering wi…

Woe is me for ‘Ommi ’Aufa! Woe f… lost on thy stony plain, Durráj, o… In Rákmatéyn I found our dwelling… tent—markstraced like the vein—tra… Large—eyed there the wild—kine pas…

When Astraled was lying, like to… Of love’s green sickness, all his… With buds of crocus and anemone, For other flowers yet were barely… And these he loved. And so it cam…

I must not speak of it. Even yet… Is but a feeble thing to fret and… And it might chance to wake and wi… When nights were still and stars w… Sit up and muse upon its lonely st…

If I had known you—oh, if I had k… In other days when youth and love… I would have raised a temple to en… On some fair pinnacle of cloudless… If you had touched me then with yo…

ON THE POWER OF HER BEAU… I am lighthearted now. An hour ag… There was a tempest in my heaven,… Of sullen lightning under a bent b… And a dull muttering which breathe…

A LATER DEDICATION To her the sweetest, fairest, wort… Who the inspirer is of my new prai… Whom lately once, one Autumn afte… I walked with nor told aught a lov…

THE SAME CONTINUED These flowers shall be my offering… Which here shall die with you in s… Flowers from the empty fields whic… And now are mine. No gold, nor my…