On a starred night Prince Lucifer… Tired of his dark dominion swung t… Above the rolling ball in cloud pa… Where sinners hugged their spectre… Poor prey to his hot fit of pride…

Maimed, beggared, grey; seeking an… Of palsy doing task of thanks for… Upon the stature of a God, He whom the Gods have struck bend… Weak words he has, that slip the n…

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…

Awakes for me and leaps from shrou… All radiantly the moon’s own night Of folded showers in streamer clou… Our shadows down the highway white Or deep in woodland woven-boughed,

The song of a nightingale sent thr… Low-lidded with twilight, and tran… Tranced with a tender enchantment;… That wins immortality even while p…

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…

We three are on the cedar-shadowed… My friend being third. He who at… Is in the weak rib by a fatal shaf… Struck through, and tells his pass… And radiant culmination, glorious…

We look for her that sunlike stood Upon the forehead of our day, An orb of nations, radiating food For body and for mind alway. Where is the Shape of glad array;

Their sense is with their senses a… Destroyed by subleties these women… More brain, O Lord, more brain! o… Utterly this fair garden we might… Behold! I looked for peace, and t…

Queen Theodolind has built In the earth a furnace-bed: There the Traitor Nail that spilt Blood of the anointed Head, Red of heat, resolves in shame:

His Lady queen of woods to meet, He wanders day and night: The leaves have whisperings discre… The mossy ways invite. Across a lustrous ring of space,

To sit on History in an easy chai… Still rivalling the wild hordes by… Sure, this beseems a race of lagga… Unwarned by those plain letters sc… If more than hands’ and armsful be…

I stood at the gate of the cot Where my darling, with side-glance… Would spy, on her trim garden-plot… The busy wild things chase and lur… For these with their ways were her…

[Iliad, B. XI. V. 148] These, then, he left, and away whe… Onward rushed, and with him rushed… Foot then footmen slew, that were… Horse at the horsemen (up from off…

Now, this, to my notion, is pleasa… To lie all alone on a ragged heath… Where your nose isn’t sniffing for… But a peat-fire smells like a gard… The cottagers bustle about the doo…