I made a little funeral pyre, And on it laid my youthful rhymes, Those thoughts of innocent desire, Dear foolish words of childhood ti… Poor things they were, misspelt an…

Oh! that the night were passed, an… Made lovely by the joy of spring, Would flood these sombre clouds wi… Oh! that some hopeful bird would s… And in his tiny feathered throat

The Malvern Hills be green some d… And some days purple-blue, There never was the like of them The whole of England through. From Hanley straight into the Wel…

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.

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…

This is the Sabbath day, the day… That breathes so gently in this qu… With such insistent peace that for… The silver olives on the mountain’… Forget to whisper, folded in the g…

I stood beside you in the dark, And felt the magic of the night Steal o’er my senses, 'til they sw… And mists of passion dimmed my sig… The stillness made me dumb, those…

Willow wand, willow wand, Change this little slender frond To a Princess tall and fair. With a mass of golden hair. Of golden hair.

Oh! my valley of shade and dreams! Golden lights 'mid the distant blu… Sun that pauses to kiss the dew, Dew that trembles beneath its beam… Fain were I but a bird above,

The sea was witness of the words y… She hushed her every tide that she… Your whispered love, and while you… My bosom, laying down your weary h… To rest thereon—the corals in thei…

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.

Pale depth of sky, serene and wond… Within whose fold the lamps of ear… Shine far away and faintly luminou… Whose pensive tones merge from the… Into this colour indescribable ;

The Moon looked in at the window, And smiled as I wrote to you, She lay like a frail white maiden, In shadowy folds of blue. Her bosom was bare and tender,

What have we missed, we two— You and I—I and you— Of sorrow, and pain, and tears, Of doubt, and of passionate fears, Of madness, and badness, these yea…