He heard it first upon the lips of… And loved it for love’s sake; A faithful word, that knows nor ti… Nor lone heart-break. It sung across his heart-strings l…

The wind that blows from the west Taps at my window, sighing; But I pull the curtains close, I’ll hear no more its crying. Oh, the north wind, it is good!

This Consul Casement—he who heard… Of stricken people—and who in his… To lift the torture load from brok… And shield sad women from eternal… Went through lone, hot, and fevere…

Dark is the tomb, yet holdeth but… In all its chill and silent majest… Lest I should lie divorced from a… An exile yet—and ever still to be. I never trod upon a foreign shore

She made roses all the day for pre… All through the patient hours, hal… Dragged into a hurried knot all he… Eyes foolish with fatigue, straini… Pretty ladies roamed away over lan…

I am the song, that rests upon the… I am the sun I am the dawn, the day, the hiding… When dusk is done. I am the changing colours of the t…

Let there be an end And all be done; Pass over, fair eclipse, That hides the sun. Dear face that shades the light

When Youth, led on by love and fo… Kissing sweet eyes beyond the allo… That he should turn to labour and… Beyond his window beauty breaks to… O greybeard, pause before thy ange…

Into my heart, Sorrow, you found… Mine enemy, it was bitter to weep… I gave you tears for drinking, And heart-sick sobs, With brain too sick for thinking,

Bring to me white roses, roses, pi… Sweet stock and gillyflowers, popp… Bee-flowers and mignonette, with b… I would make a coverlet for my nar… Bring me no silken cloth, velvet s…

There is a shadow on the head I l… There is a danger lurks thy path u… It murmurs low as coos the mating… It calls in grey and gathered clou… For thee, for thee, Kathleen ni-H…

[IN MEMORY OF PATRICK P… I saw a dreamer, I saw a poet, On the red battle-field fell my sl… ‘Lover of birds and flowers, singe… Dying with men of war, what do you…

I could have sung as sweet as any… Who in unfettered skies doth find… And sings to leaning angels prayer… For in God’s garden the most lowl… |But came the cares—a grey and sti…

On the dry brown bough The withered leaves still cling In their last desperate hold And ceaseless murmuring. They push the swinging branch

Up in the cave of the wind, All bent and crabbed with their ye… In endless chatter they sit, Old Distaff, Spindle, and Shears… And they caught a mother’s song