If you could bring her glories bac… You gentle sirs who sift the dust And burrow in the mould and must Of Babylon for bric-a-brac; Who catalogue and pigeon-hole

I climbed a hill as light fell sho… And rooks came home in scramble so… And filled the trees and flapped a… And sang themselves to sleep; An owl from nowhere with no sound

For all its flowers and trailing b… Its singing birds and streams, This valley’s not the blissful spo… The paradise, it seems. I don’t forget a man I met

The world’s gone forward to its la… And dropt an old man done with by… To sit alone among the bats and st… At miles and miles and miles of mo… Lit only with last shreds of dying…

Reason has moons, but moons not he… Lie mirror’d on the sea, Confounding her astronomers, But O! delighting me. . . . . .

Eve, with her basket, was Deep in the bells and grass, Wading in bells and grass Up to her knees, Picking a dish of sweet

Not baser than his own homekeeping… Whose journeyman he is - Blind sons and breastless daughter… Whose darkness pardons his, - About the world, while all the wor…

Now one and all, you Roses, Wake up, you lie too long! This very morning closes The Nightingale his song; Each from its olive chamber

I saw with open eyes Singing birds sweet Sold in the shops For people to eat, Sold in the shops of

Sour fiend, go home and tell the… For once you met your master, - A man who carried in his soul Three charms against disaster, The Devil and disaster.

The book was dull, its pictures As leaden as its lore, But one glad, happy picture Made up for all and more: ’Twas that of you, sweet peasant,

See an old unhappy bull, Sick in soul and body both, Slouching in the undergrowth Of the forest beautiful, Banished from the herd he led,

It’s sixty years ago, the people s… Two village children, neighbours b… One morning played beneath a rotte… That came down crash and caught th… And one was killed and one was lef…