O little Heart, So much I see Thy hidden smart, So much I long To sing some song

This is the year that has no Chri… Even the little children must be t… That something sad is happening fa… Or, if you needs must play, As children must,

Why should I ask perfection of th… That have so little of mine own to… That thou art beautiful from head… Is that, beloved, such a little th… That I should ask more of thee, a…

Beloved, I would tell a ghostly t… That hides beneath the simple name… Wild beyond hope the news—the dead… The shapes that slept, their breat… Ascend from out sarcophagus and ur…

Above the town a monstrous wheel i… With glowing spokes of red, Low in the west its fiery axle bur… And, lost amid the spaces overhead… A vague white moth, the moon, is f…

War I abhor, And yet how sweet The sound along the marching stree… Of drum and fife, and I forget

Sometimes my idle heart would roam Far from its quiet happy nest, To seek some other newer home, Some unaccustomed Best: But ere it spreads its foolish win…

Waiting in the woodland, watching… Thinking every leaf that stirs the… Thinking every whisper the rustle… How my heart goes up and up, and t… First it is a squirrel, then it is…

Through the dark wood There came to me a friend, Bringing in his cold hands Two words-'The End.’ His face was fair

Water in hidden glens From the secret heart of the mount… Where the red fox hath its dens And the gods their crystal fountai… Up runnel and leaping cataract,

Alone! once more alone! how like a… My little parlour sounds which onl… Yearned like some holy chancel wit… So still! so empty! Surely one mi… The walls should meet in ruinous c…

Saint Charles! ah yes, let other… Love Elia for his antic pen, And watch with dilettante eyes His page for every quaint surprise… Curious of caviare phrase.

_To Two Friends married in the N… (TO. MR. AND MRS. WELCH) Another year to its last day, Like a lost sovereign, runaway, Tips down the gloomy grid of time:

My head is at your feet, Two Cytherean doves, The same, O cruel sweet, As were the Queen of Love’s; They brush my dreaming brows

_You that would break with the Pa… Why with so rude a gesture take yo… None hinders, go your way; but whe… Contempt and boorish scorn Upon the womb from which even you…