The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn, And up from India glances The silver sail of dawn. The candles burn their sockets,

Others, I am not the first, Have willed more mischief than the… If in the breathless night I too Shiver now, 'tis nothing new. More than I, if truth were told,

The sloe was lost in flower, The April elm was dim; That was the lover’s hour, The hour for lies and him. If thorns are all the bower,

The night is freezing fast, To-morrow comes December; And winterfalls of old Are with me from the past; And chiefly I remember

Oh stay at home, my lad, and ploug… The land and not the sea, And leave the soldiers at their dr… And all about the idle hill Shepherd your sheep with me.

Oh who is that young sinner with t… And what has he been after that th… And wherefore is he wearing such a… Oh they’re taking him to prison fo… ‘Tis a shame to human nature, such…

The world goes none the lamer For ought that I can see, Because this cursed trouble Has struck my days and me. The stars of heaven are steady,

On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in tro… His forest fleece the Wrekin heav… The gale, it plies the saplings do… And thick on Severn snow the leav… ‘Twould blow like this through hol…

When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest friends and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchy…

The street sounds to the soldiers’… And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head, He turns and looks at me. My man, from sky to sky’s so far,

High the vanes of Shrewsbury glea… Islanded in Severn stream; The bridges from the steepled cres… Cross the water east and west. The flag of morn in conqueror’s st…

If by chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves t… And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend yo…

From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now—for a breath I tarry

ALONG the field as we came by A year ago, my love and I, The aspen over stile and stone Was talking to itself alone. ‘Oh who are these that kiss and pa…

When I watch the living meet And the moving pageant file Warm and breathing through the str… Where I lodge a little while, If the heats of hate and lust