Song ‘ O Lady mine! ’one day I cried,’ Pray make for me a posy, That I may think when from your s… On your young mouth so rosy.’

What is the end of all sweet thing… Of these dawns and twilights and g… Of the rose that climbs, and the s… Of the breeze that sighs, and the… Dust and ashes and death?

The moon has risen from her cloudy… And soared serenely into cloudless… White as a lily in a haze of dew, Pale lady, to the Summer Darkness… She leaves her nuptial couch, by b…

Come, put yer little hand in mine. And let it be at rest. It minds me of a tired bird Within a warm brown nest ; And bend that pretty head o’ your’…

A GLORY is this autumn day. That stretches far across the land… To where the sea along the sand Sings kindly, with a gentle lay Upon its lips. The gleam and sway

The hillside green with bracken. And the red plough land, The brownish hurrying rivers, Where the willows stand. The thickets and the meadows.

Sunlight and shade, Moorland and glade, Evening and day, Winter and May, Troubadour breeze,

Oh! weary ghosts, be still! Sad spectres of long dead delights… Wan spirits of the days and nights Wherein of joy we drank our fill, Lie deep beneath the sod of years.

If at some future day we two shoul… Stand face to face before the star… And pull from Love’s dead form th… That time has wound about from hea… I scarcely know what words would c…

Oh! City girls are pale-like, And proud-like, and cold-like. And nineteen out of twenty Have never been our way. I tells them of the tall hills.

And so we closed the book, wherein… How many words of ecstasy and pain… How oft repeated passion’s deep re… Like ebb and flow of tide, whose e… Upon the hearing of our listening…

July 23rd, 1906 Across the hills a tender shadow s… Like thought upon the face of one… And thro’ the silence rang some di… A vague sweet music in its every t…

Time hangs suspended 'mid the perf… With limpid wings, o’er which the… Gleams like a tear, within the ten… Desirous eyes of love-lorn Destin… The earth is dumb, the scents of m…

The noontide showers have drifted… The sunset’s on the hill, The lights be gleaming through the… Adown by Clincher’s Mill. It’s such a pretty evening, maid.

Can nothing last? No deep, intense emotion? Have all things passed, Can nothing last? ‘Yes,’ sighs the wind,