In the gloom of whiteness, In the great silence of snow, A child was sighing And bitterly saying: “Oh, They have killed a white bird up t…

The last light has gone out of the… This moonlight lying on the grass… Beyond the brink of the tall elm’s… It is as if everything else had sl… Many an age, unforgotten and lost…

The dim sea glints chill. The whi… And the skeleton weeds and the nev… Rough, long grasses keep white wit… At the hill-top by the finger-post… The smoke of the traveller’s-joy i…

The sorrow of true love is a great… And true love parting blackens a b… Yet almost they equal joys, since… Is but hope blinded by its tears,… Above the storm the heavens wait t…

Is this the road that climbs above… Round what was once a chalk-pit: n… By accident an amphitheatre. Some ash trees standing ankle-deep… And bramble act the parts, and nei…

Under the after-sunset sky Two pewits sport and cry, More white than is the moon on hig… Riding the dark surge silently; More black than earth. Their cry

OUT of the wood of thoughts that… To be cut down by the sharp ax of… Out of the night, two cocks togeth… Cleaving the darkness with a silve… And brought before my eyes twin tr…

Seated once by a brook, watching a… Chiefly that paddled, I was thus… Mellow the blackbird sang and shar… Not far off in oak and hazel brush… Unseen. There was a scent like ho…

This ploughman dead in battle slep… Many a frozen night, and merrily Answered staid drinkers, good bedm… “At Mrs Greenland’s Hawthorn Bus… “I slept.” None knew which bush.…

To-day I want the sky, The tops of the high hills, Above the last man’s house, His hedges, and his cows, Where, if I will, I look

he summer nests uncovered by autum… Some torn, others dislodged, all d… Everyone sees them: low or high in… Or hedge, or single bush, they han… Since there’s no need of eyes to s…

That’s the cuckoo, you say. I can… When last I heard it I cannot rec… Too well the year when first I fa… It was drowned by my man groaning… Ten times with an angry voice he s…

Some day, I think, there will be… In Froxfield to pick all the blac… Out of the hedges of Green Lane,… Broad lane where now September hi… In bracken and blackberry, harebel…

‘Twill take some getting.’ ‘Sir,… The old man stared up at the mistl… That hung too high in the poplar’s… Of any climber, though not for kis… Then he went on against the north-…

They should never have built a bar… Drip, drip, drip! - under that elm… Though when it was young. Now it… But good, not like the barn and me… To-morrow they cut it down. They…