Author Notes
‘Riddles’ was the boyish nickname given to Lieutenant S.G. Ridley of the Royal Flying Corps, a lad of twenty, who was reported to have lost his life in the Egyptian Desert while trying to save the life of a comrade.
#English
Sometimes the ghosts forgotten go Along the hill-top way, And with long scythes of silver mo… Meadows of moonlit hay, Until the cocks of Cotswold crow
To-day I have talked with old Eur… Shakespeare this morning sang for… Of chimney-sweepers; through the… Comes beating still the nightingal… The Tabard ales to-day are freshl…
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…
Come, sweetheart, listen, for I h… Most wonderful to tell you —news o… Albeit winter still is in the air, And the earth troubled, and the br… Yet down the fields to-day I saw…
For peace, than knowledge more des… Into your Sussex quietness I came… When summer’s green and gold and a… Over the world in flame. And peace upon your pasture lands…
Where wall and sill and broken win… Are bright with flowers unroofed a… skies, And nothing but the nesting jackda… Breaks the hushed even, once imper…
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
The bird in the corn Is a marvellous crow. He was laid and was born In the season of snow; And he chants his old catches
Sweet in the rushes The reed-singers make A music that hushes The life of the lake; The leaves are dumb,
He comes on chosen evenings, My blackbird bountiful, and sings Over the gardens of the town Just at the hour the sun goes down… His flight across the chimneys thi…
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…
Though summer long delayeth Her blue and golden boon, Yet now at length she stayeth Her wings above the noon; She sets the waters dreaming
A shower of green gems on my apple… This first morning of May Has fallen out of the night, to be Herald of holiday — Bright gems of green that, fallen…
I do not think that skies and mead… Moral, or that the fixture of a st… Comes of a quiet spirit, or that t… Have wisdom in their windless sile… Yet these are things invested in m…
Sometimes youth comes to age and a… Or counsel, or a tale of old estat… Yet youth will still be curiously… The old man’s thought when death i… For all their courteous words they…