I saw her many years ago, my gladn… She stood amongst the barley field… She walked upon the mountain’s sid… She planted many famine crops with… From rugged rocks and silver shore…

A Ballad of Good Intentions Four children played by an old oak… Big John and James and little Be… And, threading a chain of daisies… On the leaf-brown sward knelt Ger…

Build no roof-tree over thee, Raise nor wall nor rafter, Like the swallows in the eaves, Care will follow after. Lend thy ear unto no voice

This is the scene of a man’s despa… From the difficult traits of the f… A shot rang out in the night; deat… And you stood alone, a stranger, a… Coward flesh, brave soul, which wa…

And I had died before the spring… When winter’s kiss upon the fields… And no small seed had broken up th… Then had I died, whose earthly ho… I should have liked to see the sno…

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…

Madge Linsey at the well raised t… Brimmed her brass bucket full, wen… Loose hung her collar her full thr… Rough fell her silken hair, sullen… Went down the village street jaunt…

[IN MEMORIAM P. 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 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…

All night the small feet of the ra… Within the garden ran, And gentle fingers tapped the pane Until the dawn began. The rill-like voices called and su…

In every man this world doth hold Two selves are cast in that human… If he hearken but to the voice of… Then heaven is his when his work i… But if to the other his ear doth t…

Who has room for a friend Who has money to spend, And a goblet of gold For your fingers to hold, At the wave of whose hand

Who was stealing the Baron’s wine… Golden sherry and port so old, Precious, I wot, as drops of gold… Lone to-night he came to dine, Flung himself in his oaken chair,

In a field by Cahirconlish I stood on sleeping grass, No cry I made to Heaven From my dumb lips would pass. Three days, three nights I slumbe…

Deep in the moving depths Of yellow wine, I swore I’d drown your face, O love of mine; All clad in yellow hue,