Soon may the edict lapse, that on… This dire compulsion of infertile… This hardest penal toil, reluctant… Meanwhile I count you eminently b… Happy from labours heretofore well…

That beauty such as thine Can die indeed, Were ordinance too wantonly malign… No wit may reconcile so cold a cre… With beauty such as thine.

God-seeking thou hast journeyed fa… On dawn-lit mountain-tops thy soul… To hear His trailing garments wan… And where 'mid thunderous glooms g… Vainly thou sought’st His shadow…

A letter from abroad. I tear Its sheathing open, unaware What treasure gleams within; and t… Like bird from cage– Flutters a curl of golden hair

There was a time, it passeth me to… How long ago, but sure ’twas many… Before the world had gotten her su… Of foolish wisdom as she hath,-bef… She fell to waxing gray with weigh…

Just for a day you crossed my life… Put my ignobler dreams to sudden s… Went your bright way, and left me… On my own world of poorer deed and… To fall back on my meaner world, a…

Within a narrow span of time, Three princes of the realm of rhym… At height of youth or manhood’s pr… From earth took wing, To join the fellowship sublime

Lo, thou and I, my love, And the sad stars above,- Thou and I, I and thou! Ah could we lie as now Ever and aye, my love,

I know not if they erred Who thought to see The tale of all the times to be, Star-character’d; I know not, neither care,

Thou burden of all songs the earth… Thou retrospect in Time’s reverte… Thou metaphor of everything that d… That dies ill-starred, or dies bel… And therefore blest and wise,-

’Twas at this season, year by year… The singer who lies songless here Was wont to woo a less austere, Less deep repose, Where Rotha to Winandermere

Had I the fabled herb That brought to life the dead, Whom would I dare disturb In his eternal bed? Great Grenville would I wake,

As some most pure and noble face, Seen in the thronged and hurrying… Sheds o’er the world a sudden grac… A flying odour sweet, Then, passing, leaves the cheated…

So without rest or tarriance all t… Until the world was blear with com… Forth fared the princely fugitive,… His wearied feet till morn returni… Some village all a-hum with wakefu…

The men who man our batteries, The men who serve our guns, They need not honeyed flatteries, For they are Britain’s sons! They go, when Duty speeds them,