THE little moon is dead, Drowned in the flood of rain That drips from roof of byre and s… And splashes in the lane: The leafless lean-flanked lane whe…

THE summer roses all are gone— Dead, laid in shroud of rain-wet m… And passion’s lightning time is do… And Love is laid out white and co… Summer and youth for us are dead,

THE waves in thunderous menace br… Upon the rocks below my tower, And none will dare the Sea-king’s… And venture shipwreck for my sake. Yet once,—my lamp a path of light

G.T.A. BEFORE your life that is to com… Love stands with eager eyes, that… Seek to discern what gift may fit The slow unfolding years of it;

My window, framed in pear-tree blo… White-curtained shone, and softly… So, by the pear-tree, to my room Your ghost last night climbed unin… Your solid self, long leagues away…

PART I UNDER the shade of convent tower… Where fast and vigil mark the hour… From childhood into youth there gr… A maid as fresh as April dew,

ONE came to me in royal guise With banners flying fair and free But many griefs had made me wise And I refused to bow the knee. Then one drew near who bore the fl…

WHITE bird of love, lie warm upo… White flower of love, lie cool aga… Teach me to dream again a little s… Ere this dream, too, sink earthwar… Teach me to dream my heart still p…

Under the shadow of a hawthorn bra… Where bluebells draw the sky down… Where, ‘mid brown leaves, the prim… And hidden violets smell of solitu… Beneath green leaves bright-flutte…

LEAVE me alone, for August’s sl… Is on me, and I will not break th… My head is on the mighty Mother’s… I will not ask if life goes ill or… There is no world!—I do not care…

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

THIS is Christ’s birthday: long… He lay upon His Mother’s knee, Who kissed and blessed Him soft a… God’s gift to her, as you to me. My baby dear, my little one,

Hold your hands to the blaze; Winter is here With the short cold days, Bleak, keen and drear. Was there ever a day

A wall Gray and tall, And a sky of gray, And a twilight cold; And that is all

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…