A fountain of our sweetest, quick… In fellowship abounding, here subs… And never passage of a cloud on wi… To gladden blue forgets him; near…

1—I When the South sang like a nighti… Above a bower in May, The training of Love’s vine of fl… Was writ in laws, for lord and dam…

The moon is alone in the sky As thou in my soul; The sea takes her image to lie Where the white ripples roll All night in a dream,

It ended, and the morrow brought t… Her eyes were guilty gates, that l… By shutting all too zealous for th… Each sucked a secret, and each wor… But, oh, the bitter taste her beau…

By this he knew she wept with waki… That, at his hand’s light quiver b… The strange low sobs that shook th… Were called into her with a sharp… And strangled mute, like little ga…

Out in the yellow meadows, where t… Hums by us with the honey of the… And showers of sweet notes from th… Are dropping like a noon-dew, wand… Or is it now? or was it then? for…

That Garden of sedate Philosophy Once flourished, fenced from passi… A shining spot upon a shaggy map; Where mind and body, in fair junct… Luted their joyful concord; like t…

The old grey Alp has caught the c… And the torrent river sings aloud; The glacier-green Rosanna sings An organ song of its upper springs… Foaming under the tiers of pine,

THE POETRY OF CHAUCER Grey with all honours of age! but… As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard… Tender to tearfulness-childlike, a… Here beats true English blood ric…

The old hound wags his shaggy tail… And I know what he would say: It’s over the hills we’ll bound, o… Over the hills, and away. There’s nought for us here save to…

[Iliad, B. XVII. V. 426] So now the horses of Aiakides, of… Wept, since first they were ware o… Cast down low in the whirl of the… Sooth, meanwhile, then did Autome…

‘In Paris, at the Louvre, there h… The sumptuously-feathered angel pi… Prone Lucifer, descending. Looked… Showing the fight a fair one? Too… The young Pharsalians did not dis…

Flat as to an eagle’s eye, Earth hung under Attila. Sign for carnage gave he none. In the peace of his disdain, Sun and rain, and rain and sun,

‘I play for Seasons; not Eterniti… Says Nature, laughing on her way.… All those whose stake is nothing m… And lo, she wins, and of her harmo… She is full sure! Upon her dying…