In an English Castle in Poictou.… John Curzon Of those three prisoners, that bef… We took down at St. John’s hard b… Two are good masons; we have tools…

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.

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…

I heard men saying, Leave hope an… All days shall be as all have been… To-day and to-morrow bring fear an… The never-ending toil between. When Earth was younger mid toil a…

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…

The days have slain the days, and the seasons have gone by And brought me the summer again; and here on the grass I lie As erst I lay and was glad

Lo, when we wade the tangled wood, In haste and hurry to be there, Nought seem its leaves and blossom… For all that they be fashioned fai… But looking up, at last we see

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…

There was a lord that hight Malte… Among great lords he was right gre… On poor folk trod he like the dirt… None but God might do him hurt. Deus est Deus pauperum.

King’s daughter sitting in tower s… Fair summer is on many a shield. Why weepest thou as the clouds go… Fair sing the swans 'twixt firth a… Why weepest thou in the window-sea…

Our hands have met, our lips have… Our souls - who knows when the win… How light souls drift mid longings… If thou forget’st, can I forget The time that was not long ago?

Pray but one prayer for me ’twixt… Think but one thought of me up in… The summer night waneth, the morni… Faint and grey ’twixt the leaves o… That are patiently waiting there f…

’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…

There were four of us about that b… The mass-priest knelt at the side, I and his mother stood at the head… Over his feet lay the bride; We were quite sure that he was dea…

I am Winter, that do keep Longing safe amidst of sleep: Who shall say if I were dead What should be remembered?