ALAS, my tent! see through it a… Moaning, poor Fancy’s doves are s… I sit alone, a sorrow half asleep, My consciousness the blackness all… No pilgrim I, a homeless wanderer…

For years eighteen she, patient so… Her eyes had graveward sent; Her earthly life was lapt in dole, She was so bowed and bent. What words! To her? Who can be ne…

Kiss me: there now, little Neddy, Do you see her staring steady? There again you had a chance of he… Didn’t you catch the pretty glance… See her nest! On any planet

Whence do ye come, ye creatures?… Is perfect as an angel! wings and… Stupendous in their beauty-gorgeou… In feathery fields of purple and o… Would God I saw a moment as ye do…

From Schiller ‘Which of you, knight or squire, w… Plunge into yonder gulf? A golden beaker I fling in it-the… The black mouth swallows it like a…

Oh that a wind would call From the depths of the leafless wo… Oh that a voice would fall On the ear of my solitude! Far away is the sea,

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,

‘What maks ye sae canty, granny de… Has some kin’ body been for ye to… Ye luik as smilin an’ fain an’ wil… As gien ye had fun a bonny shillin… ‘Ye think I luik canty, my bonny…

Lord, hear my discontent: all blan… A mirror polished by thy hand; Thy sun’s beams flash and flame fr… I cannot help it: here I stand, t… To one of them I cannot say,

I love thy skies, thy sunny mists, Thy fields, thy mountains hoar, Thy wind that bloweth where it lis… Thy will, I love it more. I love thy hidden truth to seek

As to her child a mother calls, ‘Come to me, child; come near!’ Calling, in silent intervals, The Master’s voice I hear. But does he call me verily?

What shall I be?-I will be a knig… Walled up in armour black, With a sword of sharpness, a hamme… And a spear that will not crack– So black, so blank, no glimmer of…

Would-be prophets tell us We shall not re-know Them that walked our fellows In the ways below! Smoking, smouldering Tophets

To whom the heavy burden clings, It yet may serve him like a staff; One day the cross will break in wi… The sinner laugh a holy laugh. The dwarfed Zacchaeus climbed a t…

I cannot write old verses here, Dead things a thousand years away, When all the life of the young yea… Is in the summer day. The roses make the world so sweet,