‘Hear’st thou that sound upon the… Said the youth softly, as outstret… Where for an hour outstretched he… Softly, yet with some token of dis… Answered the maiden: ‘It is but t…

My TO-MORROW is but a flitting Fancy of the brain; God’s TO-MORROW an angel sitti… Ready for joy or pain. My TO-MORROW has no soul,

I dinna ken what’s come ower me! There’s a how whaur ance was a her… I never luik oot afore me, An’ a cry winna gar me stert; There’s naething nae mair to come…

It’s all very well, Said the Bell, To be the big Organ below! But the folk come and go, Said the Bell,

A broken tale of endless things, Take, lady: thou art not of those Who in what vale a fountain spring… Would have its journey close. Countless beginnings, fair first p…

Sad-hearted, be at peace: the snow… Buried in sepulchre of ghastly sno… But spring is floating up the sout… And darkling the pale snowdrop wai… Let me persuade: in dull December…

Came of old to houses lonely Men with wings, but did not show t… Angels come to our house, only, For their wings, they do not know…

Little Boy Blue lost his way in a… Sing apples and cherries, roses an… He said, 'I would not go back if… It’s all so jolly and funny!’ He sang, ‘This wood is all my own…

I woke at midnight, and my heart, My beating heart, said this to me: Thou seest the moon, how calm and… The world is fair by day and night… But what is that to thee?

If I did seem to you no more Than to myself I seem, Not thus you would fling wide the… And on the beggar beam! You would not don your radiant bes…

Ray of the Dawn of Truth, Aubrey… Forgive my play fantastic with thy… Distilling its true essence by the… Which Love 'neath Fancy’s limbeck… I know not what thy semblance, wha…

When God’s own child came down to… High heaven was very glad; The angels sang for holy mirth; Not God himself was sad! Shall we, when ours goes homeward,…

I stood in an ancient garden With high red walls around; Over them grey and green lichens In shadowy arabesque wound. The topmost climbing blossoms

Oh how oft I wake and find I have been forgetting thee! I am never from thy mind: Thou it is that wakest me.

With joyful pride her heart is hig… Her humble house doth hold The man her nation’s prophecy Long ages hath foretold! Poor, is he? Yes, and lowly born: