Last night when I kissed you, My soul caught alight; And oh! how I missed you The rest of the night - Till Love in derision

UNDER our lead we lie While the sun and the snow go by, And our shrouds lie close, lie clo… Like the leaves of a shut white ro… That knows not what summer knows

Here’s a rose that blows for Chlo… Fair as ever a rose in June was, Now the garden’s silent, snowy, Where the burning summer noon was. In your garden’s summer glory

(Who asked a Song in Spring) WHY do you bid your poet sing, Who has no mind to song— Who only wants to see the Spring, Long sought and tarrying long?

The sulky sage scarce condescends… This pretty world of sun and grass… To him ’tis all illusion—only he Is real amid the visions he percei… No sage am I, and yet, by Love’s…

THE monastery towers, as pure and… As virgin vows, reached up white h… The walls, to guard the hidden hea… Were strong as sin, and white as s… And there came holy men, by world’…

LAURELS, bring laurels, sheaves… Till England’s boughs are bare of… Soon comes the flower more rare, m… Than any laurel this year weaves— The Aloe of the hundredth year

FLUSHED with a crimson sunrise… The fair new year its promise gave… Such dreams we had of love, of dut… Of heights to scale, of foes to br… Oh, how hope’s fire our future lig…

Go, since you must, but, Dearest,… That, Honour having bid you go, Your honour, if your life be spent… Shall have a costly monument. This heart, that fire and roses is

(Air: Carnaval de Venise) LET Housman sing of Severn shore… Of Thames let Arnold sing, But we will sing no river more Save this where crowbars ring.

The wind is crying in the night, Like a lost child; The waves break wonderful and whit… And wild. The drenched sea-poppies swoon alo…

ROSE of the desert of my heart, Moon of the night that is my soul, Thou can’st not know how sweet tho… Nor what wild tides thy beams cont… For all thy heart a garden is,

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

22nd January, 1901. THE Queen is dead. God save the… In this his hour of grief, When sorrow gathers memories in a… To lay them on his shoulders as he…

Last year the fields were all glad… With silver daisies and silver may… There were kingcups gold by the ri… And primrose stars under every hed… This year the fields are trampled…