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…

A STORY FROM THE LAN… At Deildar-Tongue in the autumn-t… So many times over comes summer ag… Stood Odd of Tongue his door besi… What healing in summer if winter b…

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…

It was a knight of the southern la… Rode forth upon the way When the birds sang sweet on eithe… About the middle of the May. But when he came to the lily-close…

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…

Love is enough: ho ye who seek sav… Go no further; come hither; there… And these know the House of Fulfi… These know the Cup with the roses… These know the World’s Wound and…

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,

O treacherous scent, O thorny sig… O tangle of world’s wrong and righ… What art thou ’gainst my armour’s… But dusky cobwebs of a dream? Beat down, deep sunk from every gl…

’Twas in the water-dwindling tide When July days were done, Sir Rafe of Greenhowes, ’gan to r… In the earliest of the sun. He left the white-walled burg behi…

In Arthur’s house whileome was I When happily the time went by In midmost glory of his days. He held his court then in a place Whereof ye shall not find the name

Winter in the world it is, Round about the unhoped kiss Whose dream I long have sorrowed… Round about the longing sore, That the touch of thee shall turn

The Briarwood. The fateful slumber floats and flo… About the tangle of the rose; But lo! the fated hand and heart To rend the slumberous curse apart…

Had she come all the way for this, To part at last without a kiss? Yea, had she borne the dirt and ra… That her own eyes might see him sl… Beside the haystack in the floods?

Hot August noon: already on that… Since sunrise through the Wiltshi… Of mouth and eye, he had gone leag… Ay and by night, till whether good… He was, he knew not, though he kne…