SHUT out day’s wintry beams! Sleep, brood upon my brain! For sweet sleep bringeth dreams And love again! Love cold and wan and sere

‘CAN the soul die, believe you? Because it seems to me My soul is dead and buried, So still it seems to be. ’It quivers not with joy;

Is it snow or snowdrops’ shimmer Whitens thus the bladed grass, With a faint aërial glimmer,— Spring or winter, which did pass? For the sky is dim and tender

In many a shape and fleeting appar… Sublime in age or with clear morni… Ever I seek thee, tantalising Vis… Which beckoning flies. Ever I seek Thee, O evasive Pres…

“How long shall Man be Nature’s f… “Be like those great, gaunt oxen,… Inexorably driven round and round To turn the water-wheel with banda… And as they trudge beneath Egypti…

The Hunter’s Moon rides high, High o’er the close-cropped plain; Across the desert sky The herded clouds amain Scamper tumultuously,

W.K.C.—3rd MARCH, 1879. ‘A free man thinks of nothing so l… ‘DRAW back the curtain, wife,’ h… And, dying, raised his feeble head… As all his gathered soul leaped sh…

THE autumn day steals, pallid as… Along these fields and man-forsake… And o’er the hedgerows bramble-kno… The whitening locks of Old Man’s… Here, shrunk by centuries of fire…

The woods shake in an ague-fit, The mad wind rocks the pine, From sea to sea the white gulls fl… Into the roaring brine. The moon as if in panic grief

The Palms stood motionless as Pyr… Against the golden halo of the sky… Interminable crops of wheat and ry… Mantled the plain with downy cover… Of silken green, where little frec…

DURING THE GREAT FROST, 1… Thou sign-post of the Desert! Obe… Once fronting in thy monumental pr… Egypt’s fierce sun, that blazing f… Sheared her of tree and herb, till…

There was intoxication in the air; The wind, keen blowing from across… O’er leagues of new-ploughed land… Smelt of wild gorse whose gold fla… And undertone of song pulsed far a…

The rain beat in our faces, And shrill the wild airs grew; The long-maned clouds in races Coursed o’er heaven’s windy blue. The tortured trees were lashing

I planted a rose tree in my garden… In early days when the year was yo… I thought it would bear me roses,… While nights were dewy and days we… It bore me once, and a white rose…

ALL my heart is stirring lightly Like dim violets winter-bound, Quickening as they feel the bright… Glowing sunlight underground. Yea, this drear and silent bosom,