Fair was the morning, fair our tem… We had seen nothing fairer than th… Though strange, and the untrodden… Wild of the tame, casting out all… Not wild and rustic and old; and w…

As the clouds that are so light, Beautiful, swift, and bright, Cast shadows on field and park Of the earth that is so dark, And even so now, light one!

The green elm with the one great b… Lets leaves into the grass slip, o… The short hill grass, the mushroom… Harebell and scabious and tormenti… That blackberry and gorse, in dew…

And you, Helen, what should I giv… So many things I would give you Had I an infinite great store Offered me and I stood before To choose. I would give you youth…

RUNNING along a bank, a parapet That saves from the precipitous wo… The level road, there is a path.… Children for looking down the long… Between the legs of beech and yew,…

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

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.…

THE long small room that showed w… Narrowed up to the end the firepla… Although not wide. I liked it. No… What need or accident made them so… Only the moon, the mouse, and the…

But these things also are Spring’… On banks by the roadside the grass Long-dead that is greyer now Than all the Winter it was; The shell of a little snail bleach…

Rise up, rise up, And, as the trumpet blowing Chases the dreams of men, As the dawn glowing The stars that left unlit

TALL nettles cover up, as they h… These many springs, the rusty harr… Long worn out, and the roller made… Only the elm butt tops the nettles… This corner of the farmyard I lik…

Mother, the root of this little ye… Among the stones has the taste of… Things are strange to-day on the c… And the grasshopper works at his s… So hard. Here’s one on my hand, m…

What matter makes my spade for tea… Letting down two clay pipes into t… The one I smoked, the other a sol… Of Blenheim, Ramillies, and Malp… Perhaps. The dead man’s immortali…

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but t… On this bleak hut, and solitude, a… Remembering again that I shall di… And neither hear the rain nor give… For washing me cleaner than I hav…

Not the end: but there’s nothing m… Sweet Summer and Winter rude I have loved, and friendship and l… The crowd and solitude: But I know them: I weary not;