_Who Died on October 25th_, 1899. THERE was a day, A horrible Autumn day, When from her home, the home she m… And that day made a nightmare of w…

If Jesus came to London, Came to London to-day, He would not go to the West End, He would come down our way; He’d talk with the children dancin…

In answer to those who have said t… give no personal love to their cou… ENGLAND, my country, austere in… Set in the seat of the mighty, wie… Have we but sung of your glory, fi…

‘LOVE me little, love me long,’ Is the burden of my song, And if nothing more may be Little shall suffice for me. But if you could crown with flower…

Young and a conqueror, once on a d… Wild white Winter rode out this w… With his sword of ice and his bann… Vanquished the Summer and laid he… Winter was young then, young and s…

EYES caught by beauty, fancy by… Sweet possibilities, question, and… What did her smile say? What has… Her standard, what? Am I o’er it… Flutter in meeting—in absence drea…

I HAD a star to sing by, a beaut… But when I sang of its splendour… ‘Sweet are your songs, yet the sin… He hymns but stars unbeholden of u… Glow-worms we see and marshlights;…

LADY, I see you every day— More than your other lovers do; I sit beside you at the Play, And in the Park I ride with you. Through picture shows with you I…

This is the room to which she came… And Spring itself came with her; She stirred the fire of life to fl… She called all music hither. Her glance upon the lean white wal…

LAID close to Death, these many… In this small seed Life hid herse… So well she hid, Death was at lea… Set free the grain—and lo! the sev… Warmed by the sun, wooed by the wi…

NOW that the curtains are drawn c… Now that the fire burns low, And on her narrow bed the rose Is stark laid out in snow; Now that the wind of winter blows

THIS is the day of our glory; th… Under her dusty laurels England s… Dreams of her days of honour, terr… Days of the making of story, days… When all her fate and her future h…

WHEN I am busying about, Sewing on buttons, tapes, and stri… Hanging the week’s wet washing out Or ironing the children’s things, Sweeping and dusting, cleaning gra…

DRAW close the curtains, and shu… The spring’s green glow and glitte… The resurrection-life of spring To me brings no fresh blossoming; I’m wearied of the flowers about—

I WILL not wake you, dear; no te… To chill the still bed where you l… No cry, no word, shall break the s… Of the great silence where God le… I will not tease your grave with f…