I CAN NOT give you happiness: For wishes long have ceased to bri… The Fortune which to page and kin… They brought in those good centuri… When with a quaint and starry wand

Old year, farewell! Much have you given which was ill… Much have taken which was dear, so… Much have you spoken which was ill… Echoes of speech first uttered dee…

Once, I remember, when we were at… I had come into church, and waited… Ere lastly kneeling to communicate Alone: and thinking that you would… Then, with closed eyes (having rec…

How should I sing you? '€” you wh… Within the darkest chamber of my h… What picturesque and inward-turnin… Could shadow forth the image of my… Sweet, world aloof, ineffably sere…

Moth-like at night you flit or fly To where the other patients lie ; I hear, as you brush by my door The flutter of your wings, no more… Shall I now call you in and see

Bodies of comrade soldiers gleamin… Within the mill-pool where you flo… And lounge around part-clothed or… Beautiful shining forms of men ali… O living lutes stringed with the s…

On Where’s the use to write? What can I tell you, dear? Just that I want you so Who are not near. Just that I miss the lamp whose b…

Dear, rash, warm-hearted friend. So careless of the end, So worldly-foolish, so divinely-wi… Who, caring not one jot For place, gave all you’d got

No mortal comes to visit me to-day… Only the gay and early-rising Sun Who strolled in nonchalantly, just… ‘ Good morrow, and despair not, fo… But like the tune which comforted…

Here where no tree changes, Here in a prison of pine, I think how Autumn ranges The country that is mine. There—rust upon the chill breeze–

I’m homesick for my hills again - My hills again! To see above the Severn plain, Unscabbarded against the sky, The blue high blade of Cotswold l…

God dreamed a man; Then, having firmly shut Life like a precious metal in his… Withdrew, His labour done. Thus d… Our various divinity and sin.

Big glory mellowing on the mellowi… And in the Uttle valleys, thatch… Wrought by the manifold and vagran… Of sun and ripening rain and wind… My country, that great magic cup w…

(To E.M., Who drew them in Ho… From troubles of the world I turn… Beautiful comical things Sleeping or curled Their heads beneath white wings

A man there was, a gentle soul, Of mild enquiring mind, Who came into this neighbourhood Its wonders for to find [ … ] They told him who had put the lid