I struck you once, I do remember… Hard on the track of passion sorro… And swift repentance, weeping for… I struck you once—and now you’re l… Now you are gone the blow no longe…

‘Going, going!’ the voice was loud… And, rising, silenced the chatteri… ‘Going! going! shall it be gone?’ The auctioneer held up an old viol… ‘The mute though tarnished is silv…

The Dean of Santiago on his mule Rode quick the Guadalquivir banks… He had no eye the veiling eve to l… No ear to listen for the bird’s la… Gold mist and purple of the settin…

Before her mirror in a pouting moo… Afraid to weep lest anger should r… The picture there, she did impatie… Why Fate should treat her worse t… Her lilac frock her mother’s hand…

Thrice turned she in her narrow be… His tears disturbed her rest; She kissed the little babe that la… So still upon her breast. ‘Dream well,’ she said, 'my daught…

Mischievous rose from the rose-tre… Can I not bind thee nor hold thee… Can I not weave thee nor fold the… In with thy sisters to staying? Vain is my passion or praying,

Droop all the flowers in my garden… All their fair heads hang low; For rose, their fairest companion, Never again will they know. Bring me no flowers for wearing,

She walks in a lonely garden On the path her feet have made, With high-heeled shoes, gold-buckl… And gown of a flowered brocade; The hair that falls on her shoulde…

For that old love I once adored I deck my halls and spread my boar… At Christmas-time. With all the winter’s flowers that… I wreathe my room, and mistletoe

Oh, the lonely road, the road to… ’Tis there I see a little ghost,… She plucks the swaying cowslip nor… But flies at my pursuing, who once… She once did run to me.

They say it is the wind in midnigh… Loud shrieking past the window, th… Each casement shudder with its sto… And the barred door with pushing s… Ah, no! ah, no! It is the souls p…

I had loved the pretty birds that… The gentle thrush that had his nes… The chaffinch with his sudden note… The sad rhyme of the robin, too, t… The happy lark whose benison fell…

Dear, in wintry weather, How close we crept together! The storms, with all their thunder… Could not our fond hands sunder. No sorrow followed after

When the white rose and the red sp… Make a scented path to tread throu… I half-dreaming all forget in the… That the city’s claim will come, b… How can I go forth again to the h…

God made the man and bid him multi… Replenish the green earth, nor bre… Made by His hand; Man hearing und… He loved His work and held His la… And wherefore then does this poor…