TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… Agnes went through the meadows a-w… Fowl are a-singing. There stood the hill-man heed ther… Agnes, fair Agnes!

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…

Pear-tree. By woodman’s edge I faint and fai… By craftsman’s edge I tell the ta… Chestnut-tree. High in the wood, high o’er the ha…

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…

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…

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

Puellae. Whence comest thou, and whither go… Abide! abide! longer the shadows g… What hopest thou the dark to thee… Abide! abide! for we are happy her…

Ye who have come o’er the sea to behold this grey minster of lan… Whose floor is the tomb of time pa… and whose walls by the toil of dea… Show pictures amidst of the ruin

I am Night: I bring again Hope of pleasure, rest from pain: Thoughts unsaid 'twixt Life and D… My fruitful silence quickeneth.

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…

’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…

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…

Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou a… Across the long grass of the marsh… Thy west wind whispers of the comi… Thy lark forgets that May is grow… Above the lush blades of the sprin…

Spring am I, too soft of heart Much to speak ere I depart: Ask the Summer-tide to prove The abundance of my love.