The King’s son walks in the garde… Oh, the maiden’s heart is merry! He little knows for his toil and c… That the bride is gone and the bow… Put on garments of white, my maide…

’Tis well with words, oh masters,… To turn men’s eyes yearning to the… Yet first take heed to what your o… By deeds not words the souls of me… Good lives alone are fruitful; the…

In days, when the fruit of men’s l… And hearts were weary and nigh to… A sweet grave man with a beautiful… Came to us once in the fields and… He told us of Roma, the marvellou…

How deep the April night is in it… The hopeful, solemn, many-murmured… The earth lies hushed with expecta… Above the world’s dark border burn… Yellow and large; from forest floo…

Didst thou not tease and fret me t… Sweet spirit of this summer-circle… With that quiet voice of thine tha… Its meaning, though I mused and s… But now I am content to let it go…

Or whether sad or joyous be her ho… Yet ever is she good and ever fair… If she be glad, ’tis like a child’… Who claps her hands above a heap o… And if she’s sad, it is no cloud t…

On such a day the shrunken stream Spends its last water and runs dry… Clouds like far turrets in a dream Stand baseless in the burning sky. On such a day at every rod

Over the dripping roofs and sunk s… The bells are ringing loud and str… The shout of children dins upon mi… Shrilly, and like a flight of silv… Showers the sweet gossip of the B…

There is no break in all the wide… Nor light on any field, and the wi… And talks of death. Where cold gr… Round greyer stones, and the new-f… Heap the chill hollows of the nake…

We in sorrow coldly witting, In the bleak world sitting, sittin… By the forest, near the mould, Heard the summer calling, calling, Through the dead leaves falling, f…

If any man, with sleepless care op… On many a night had risen, and add… His hand to make him out of joy an… An image of sweet sleep in carven… Light touch by touch, in weary mom…

O differing human heart, Why is it that I tremble when thi… Thy human eyes and beautiful human… Draw me, and stir within my soul That subtle ineradicable longing

Though fancy and the might of rhym… That turneth like the tide, Have borne me many a musing time, Beloved, from thy side. Ah yet, I pray thee, deem not, Sw…

The glittering roofs are still wit… Black chimney builds into the quie… Its curling pile to crumble silent… Far out to westward on the edge of… The slender misty city towers up-b…

What are these bustlers at the gat… Of now or yesterday, These playthings in the hand of F… That pass, and point no way; These clinging bubbles whose mock…