For one, the amaryllis and the ros… The poppy, sweet as never lilies a… The ripen’d vine, that beckons as… The dancing star. For one, the trodden rosemary and…

All her hours were yellow sands, Blown in foolish whorls and tassel… Slipping warmly through her hands; Patted into little castles. Shiny day on shiny day

Drink and dance and laugh and lie, Love, the reeling midnight through… For tomorrow we shall die! (But, alas, we never do.)

I never may turn the loop of a roa… Where sudden, ahead, the sea is ly… But my heart drags down with an an… My heart, that a second before was… I never behold the quivering rain—

And now I have another lad! No longer need you tell How all my nights are slow and sad For loving you too well. His ways are not your wicked ways,

Roses, rooted warm in earth, Bud in rhyme, another age; Lilies know a ghostly birth Strewn along a patterned page; Golden lad and chimbley sweep

She that begs a little boon (Heel and toe! Heel and toe!) Little gets– and nothing, soon. (No, no, no! No, no, no!) She that calls for costly things

You know the bloom, unearthly whit… That none has seen by morning ligh… The tender moon, alone, may bare Its beauty to the secret air. Who’d venture past its dark retrea…

There’s a place I know where the… And wayward vines go roaming, Where the lilacs nod, and a marble… Is pale, in scented gloaming. And at sunset there comes a lady f…

Dante Gabriel Rossetti Buried all of his libretti, Thought the matter over - then Went and dug them up again.

Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat; My dress is 1922.... My life is all like that.

Should Heaven send me any son, I hope he’s not like Tennyson. I’d rather have him play a fiddle Than rise and bow and speak an idy…

Who was there had seen us Wouldn’t bid him run? Heavy lay between us All our sires had done. There he was, a-springing

Upon the work of Walter Landor I am unfit to write with candor. If you can read it, well and good; But as for me, I never could.