Most people have a way of making f… That’s very queer. They don’t choose whom they like,… In some way near. The girl beside them on the factor…

Beauty does not walk through lovel… Beauty walks with horror in her ha… Down long centuries of pleasant wa… Men have found the terrible most f… Youth is lovelier in death than li…

Sometimes I think the happiest of… Is the blest moment of release fro… The world once more is all one’s o… Upon one’s own and not another’s p… And each poor heart imprisoned by…

Those must be masts of ships the g… On through the little gap in the p… So far away that seeing almost fai… Those must be masts, the lovely ma… Stripped bare of sails.

I was sad Having signed up in a rebel band, Having signed up to rid the land Of a plague it had. For I knew

If you have loved a brave story Tell it but rarely; And, with due faith in its glory, Render it barely. Then must the listener, hearing

One summer day, along the street, Men pruned the gums To make them neat. The tender branches, white with fl… Lay in the sun

Oh, oh Rosalie, Oh, oh Rosalie, What would you have of me? Oh, oh Rosalie. I have kisses fine,

Great crane o’ertopping the delica… Why do you seem so fair, Swaying and raising your load with… High in the misty air? You are a wonder of pearl and grey

Ours was a friendship in secret, m… Stolen from fate. I must be secret still, show mysel… Early and late. ‘Isn’t it sad he was killed!' I m…

The little ships are dearer than t… For they sail in strange places, They lean nearer the green waters. One may count by wavelets how the… From their decks; and hear the Se…

The lilies in the garden walk Are out today. The nuns all came to look at them, To look and say They wouldn’t last to deck the cri…

O great golden head lie in my lap, Sweet, sweet, lie there. Sleep and I’ll watch thee lest ev… Sweet, sweet and fair. O great golden head lie on my brea…

Green and blue First-named of colours believe the… They first of colours by men were… This grass colour, tree colour, Sky colour, sea colour,

Each day I sit in an ill-lighted… To teach a boy; For one hour by the clock great wo… Are our employ. We read St Agnes’ Eve and that m…