I was in the woods to-day, And the leaves were spinning there… Rich apparelled in decay, — In decay more wholly fair Than in life they ever were.

Barefoot we went by Millers Dale When meadowsweet was golden gloom And happy love was in the vale Singing upon the summer bloom Of gipsy crop and branches laid

Lord Rameses of Egypt sighed Because a summer evening passed; And little Ariadne cried That summer fancy fell at last To dust; and young Verona died

“Hush!” was my whisper At the stair-top When the waggoners were down below Home from the barley-crop. Through the high window

Austere and clad in sombre robes o… With hands upfolded and with silen… In unimpassioned mystery the day Passes; a lonely thrush its requie… The dust of night is tangled in th…

Ringed high with turf the arena li… The neighbouring world unseen, unh… Here are but unhorizoned skies, And on the skies a passing bird, The conies and a wandering sheep,

I have a place in a little garden, That laurel-leaf and fern Keep a cool place though fires of… All the green grasses burn. Little cool winds creep there abou…

At the top of the house the apples… And the skylight lets the moonligh… Apples are deep-sea apples of gree… A cloud on the moon in the autumn… A mouse in the wainscot scratches,…

At April’s end, when blossoms bre… To birth upon my apple-tree, I know the certain year will take Full harvest of this infancy. At April’s end, when comes the de…

He was a man with wide and patient… Grey, like the drift of twitch-fir… That, without fearing, searched if… Might threaten from your heart. G… Under a brow was drawn because he…

High up in the sky there, now, you… In this May twilight, our cottage… Tenantless, and no creature there… Near it but Mrs. Fry’s fat cows,… Dove-coloured, as is Cotswold. No…

His wage of rest at nightfall stil… He takes, who sixty years has know… Of ploughing over Cotsall hill And keeping trim the Cotsall ston… He meditates the dusk, and sees

Now June walks on the waters, And the cuckoo’s last enchantment Passes from Olton pools. Now dawn comes to my window Breathing midsummer roses,

God laughed when he made Grafton That’s under Bredon Hill, A jewel in a jewelled plain. The seasons work their will On golden thatch and crumbling sto…

Morning and night I bring Clear water from the spring. And through the lyric noon I hear the larks in tune, And when the shadows fall