There met three knights on the woo… And the first was clad in silk arr… The second was dight in iron and s… But the third was rags from head t… “Lo, now is the year and the day c…

Love is enough: it grew up without… In the days when ye knew not its n… And its leaflets untrodden by the… Had no boast of the blossom, no si… As the morning and evening passed…

SIR OZANA. All day long and every day, From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunda… Within that Chapel-aisle I lay, And no man came a-near.

Oak. I am the Roof-tree and the Keel; I bridge the seas for woe and weal… Fir. High o’er the lordly oak I stand,

But, learning now that they would… She threw her wet hair backward fr… Her hand close to her mouth touchi… As though she had had there a sham… And feeling it shameful to feel ou…

What part of the dread eternity Are those strange minutes that I… Mazed with the doubt of love and p… When I thy delicate face may see, A little while before farewell?

She wavered, stopped and turned, m… The deep grey windows of her heart… Methought they softened with a new… To note in mine unspoken miseries, And as a prayer from out my heart…

TRANSLATED FROM THE I… Of silk my gear was shapen, Scarlet they did on me, Then to the sea-strand was I born… And laid in a bark of the sea.

The Youths. O Winter, O white winter, wert th… No more within the wilds were I a… Leaping with bent bow over stock a… No more alone my love the lamp sho…

Through thick Arcadian woods a hu… Following the beasts upon a fresh… But since his horn-tipped bow but… Now at the noontide nought had hap… Within a vale he called his hounds…

Thick rise the spear-shafts o’er t… That erst the harvest bore; The sword is heavy in the hand, And we return no more. The light wind waves the Ruddy Fo…

Slayer of the winter, art thou her… O welcome, thou that’s bring’st th… The bitter wind makes not thy vict… Nor will we mock thee for thy fain… Welcome, O March! whose kindly da…

Gold on her head, and gold on her… And gold where the hems of her kir… And a golden girdle round my sweet… Ah! qu’elle est belle La Margueri… Margaret’s maids are fair to see,

Shall we wake one morn of spring, Glad at heart of everything, Yet pensive with the thought of ev… Then the white house shall we leav… Pass the wind-flowers and the bays…