Her ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the pop… Rustle their pale—leaves listlessl… Or the drifting foam of a restless…

It is full summer now, the heart o… Not yet the sun—burnt reapers are… Upon the upland meadow where too s… Rich autumn time, the season’s usu… Will lend his hoarded gold to all…

A ring of gold and a milk—white do… Are goodly gifts for thee, And a hempen rope for your own lov… To hang upon a tree. For you a House of Ivory

The western wind is blowing fair Across the dark Ægean sea, And at the secret marble stair My Tyrian galley waits for thee. Come down! the purple sail is spre…

As one who poring on a Grecian ur… Scans the fair shapes some Attic… God with slim goddess, goodly man… And for their beauty’s sake is lot… And face the obvious day, must I…

He was a Grecian lad, who coming… With pulpy figs and wine from Sic… Stood at his galley’s prow, and le… Blow through his crisp brown curls… And holding wave and wind in boy’s…

Thou knowest all; I seek in vain What lands to till or sow with see… The land is black with briar and w… Nor cares for falling tears or rai… Thou knowest all; I sit and wait

The silver trumpets rang across th… The people knelt upon the ground w… And borne upon the necks of men I… Like some great God, the Holy Lo… Priest—like, he wore a robe more w…

Under the rose—tree’s dancing shad… There stands a little ivory girl, Pulling the leaves of pink and pea… With pale green nails of polished… The red leaves fall upon the mould…

Beautiful star with the crimson li… And flagrant daffodil hair, Come back, come back, in the shaki… O’er the much—overrated sea, To the hearts that are sick for th…

My limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For calling on my Lady’s name My lips have now forgot to sing. O Linnet in the wild—rose brake

In a dim corner of my room for lon… my fancy thinks A beautiful and silent Sphinx has… through the shifting gloom. Inviolate and immobile she does no…

He did not wear his scarlet coat, For blood and wine are red, And blood and wine were on his han… When they found him with the dead, The poor dead woman whom he loved,

The corn has turned from grey to r… Since first my spirit wandered for… From the drear cities of the north… And to Italia’s mountains fled. And here I set my face towards ho…