Whate’er I be, old England is my… So there’s my answer to the judges… I’m nothing of a fox, nor of a lam… I don’t know how to bleat nor how… I’m for the nation!

The years had worn their seasons’… From bud to rosy prime, Since Nellie by the larch-pole kn… And helped the hop to climb. Most diligent of teachers then,

I chanced upon an early walk to sp… A troop of children through an orc… The boughs hung low, the grass was… They had but to lift hands or wait For fruits to fill them; fruits we…

(The Death Of Robert Browning) Now dumb is he who waked the world… And voiceless hangs the world besi… Our words are sobs, our cry of pra… We are the smitten mortal, we the…

At dinner, she is hostess, I am h… Went the feast ever cheerfuller?… The Topic over intellectual deeps In buoyancy afloat. They see no g… With sparkling surface-eyes we ply…

In our old shipwrecked days there… When in the firelight steadily agl… Joined slackly, we beheld the red… Among the clicking coals. Our lib… That eve was left to us: and hushe…

Angelic love that stoops with heav… To meet its earthly mate; Heroic love that to its sphere’s e… Can dare to join its fate With one beloved devoted human hea…

Her son, albeit the Muse’s livery And measured courtly paces rouse h… Naked and hairy in his savage haun… To Nature only will he bend the k… Spouting the founts of her distill…

Musing on the fate of Daphne, Many feelings urged my breast, For the God so keen desiring, And the Nymph so deep distrest. Never flashed thro’ sylvan valley

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…

He rises and begins to round, He drops the silver chain of sound Of many links without a break, In chirrup, whistle, slur and shak… All intervolv’d and spreading wide…

What are we first? First, animals… Intelligences at a leap; on whom Pale lies the distant shadow of th… And all that draweth on the tomb f… Into which state comes Love, the…

When I would image her features, Comes up a shrouded head: I touch the outlines, shrinking; She seems of the wandering dead. But when love asks for nothing,

Thus piteously Love closed what h… The union of this ever—diverse pai… These two were rapid falcons in a… Condemned to do the flitting of th… Lovers beneath the singing sky of…