The winds out of the west land blo… My friends have breathed them ther… Warm with the blood of lads I kno… Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled th…

“Farewell to barn and stack and tr… Farewell to Severn shore. Terence, look your last at me, For I come home no more. ”The sun burns on the half-mown hi…

The mill-stream, now that noises c… Is all that does not hold its peac… Under the bridge it murmurs by, And here are night and hell and I… Who made the world I cannot tell;

“Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die. ”Oh, at home had I but stayed

Ho, everyone that thirsteth And hath the price to give, Come to the stolen waters, Drink and your soul shall live. Come to the stolen waters,

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,

Wake not for the world-heard thund… Nor the chimes that earthquakes to… Stars may plot in heaven with plan… Lightning rive the rock of granite… Tempest tread the oakwood under,

“Oh, sick I am to see you, will y… You may be good for something, but… Oh, go where you are wanted, for y… And that was all the farewell when… ”I will go where I am wanted, to…

I ‘listed at home for a lancer, Oh who would not sleep with the br… I ’listed at home for a lancer To ride on a horse to my grave. And over the seas we were bidden

The laws of God, the laws of man, He may keep that will and can; Not I: let God and man decree Laws for themselves and not for me… And if my ways are not as theirs

On moonlit heath and lonesome bank The sheep beside me graze; And yon the gallows used to clank Fast by the four cross ways. A careless shepherd once would kee…

Stay, if you list, O passer by th… Yet night approaches; better not t… I never sigh, nor flush, nor knit… Nor grieve to think how ill God m… Here, with one balm for many fever…

There pass the careless people That call their souls their own: Here by the road I loiter, How idle and alone. Ah, past the plunge of plummet,

The chestnut casts his flambeaux,… Stream from the hawthorn on the wi… The doors clap to, the pane is bli… Pass me the can, lad; there’s an e… There’s one spoilt spring to scant…

When first my way to fair I took Few pence in purse had I, And long I used to stand and look At things I could not buy. Now times are altered: if I care