From every quarter we, Who bent the trembling knee And cowered or grovelled prostrate… Now come once more to sing A dirge before thee, King,

Lonely wonder, delight past hoping… Sky-line broken by stirring trees, Grey rocks hither and shoreward sl… Silent bracken about my knees. Dusky scrub where the sunlight spl…

“Where shall we dwell?” say you.    Wandering winds reply: “In a temple with roof of blue    —Under the splendid sky.” Never a nobler home

O Merlin, how the magic from your… Bids the world flame about your id… And makes a marvel of the humming… The watchful bush, the starry-haun… Dear, do you know that all such ma…

And can you tell me Love is blind Because your faults he will not fi… Because the image that he sees Is one of splendid mysteries? And if he lack the power to look

Not till the sun, that brings to b… The myriad marvels of the earth And bids us look with wandering ey… On all that here about us lies, Has gone behind the hill,

Love may trace his echoing footste… Rugged Kretschmann, the musician,… Never see the low broad figure, ma… And the quiet furrowed features, n… But from many a home there rises m…

Hey, Toby, Toby, Toby!—Dead? The silence is a flood That closes, choking, overhead, And chills the living blood. The leaping friend, whose jolly ba…

What of these tender feet    That have never toddled yet?    What dances shall they beat,    With what red vintage wet? In what wild way will they march o…

Alone I sit in the dusk and see Surely the living faces, dear to m… Of comrades who have thrown All that they had, the fruit of al…

Seasons bloom and seasons wither;… Must we try with floods of bitter… Vainly chase the brown and broken… Shall we scorn the flowers around… Flowers giving loads of fragrance…

ABOVE us hangs the jewelled nigh… And how her restful cool caresses Make us forget the weary sight Of summer’s daily wildernesses! O aching toil and hope deferred,

A golden largesse from a store unt… Announced the ruddy day’s imperial… And woke a loyal world to jubilant… And hopes that boasted, madly over… Shadow and thunder from a dull clo…

Hail to you, comrades, who have wo… Where the torn lines of battle run By tattered town and ruined mead, The honour that men give with prid… To those who, daffing death aside,

Where yonder ruddy-misted star Is tumbling down the placid sky The people’s aims were not so high As our heroic motives are; To love and trust they set a bar,