he child alone a poet is: Spring and Fairyland are his. Truth and Reason show but dim, And all’s poetry with him. Rhyme and music flow in plenty
Can I find True—Love a gift In this dark hour to restore her, When body’s vessel breaks adrift, When hope and beauty fade before h… But in this plight I cannot think
Through long nursery nights he sto… By my bed unwearying, Loomed gigantic, formless, queer, Purring in my haunted ear That same hideous nightmare thing,
Tangled in thought am I, Stumble in speech do I? Do I blunder and blush for the re… Wander aloof do I, Lean over gates and sigh,
Not to sleep all the night long, f… Counting no sheep and careless of… Welcoming the dawn confabulation Of birds, her children, who discus… Fanciful details of the promised c…
Listen now this time Shortly to my rhyme That herewith starts About certain kind hearts In those stricken parts
Blacksmith Green had three strong… With bread and beef did fill 'em, Now John and Ned are perished and… But plenty remains of William. John Green was a whiskey drinker,
‘Make a song, father, a new little… All for Jenny and Nancy.’ Balow lalow or Hey derry down, Or else what might you fancy? Is there any song sweet enough
The butterfly, the cabbage white, (His honest idiocy of flight) Will never now, it is too late, Master the art of flying straight, Yet has —who knows so well as I?…
Down, wanton, down! Have you no s… That at the whisper of Love’s nam… Or Beauty’s, presto! up you raise Your angry head and stand at gaze? Poor Bombard—captain, sworn to re…
His eyes are quickened so with gri… He can watch a grass or leaf Every instant grow; he can Clearly through a flint wall see, Or watch the startled spirit flee
“Are you awake, Gemelli, This frosty night?” 'We’ll be awake till reveillé, Which is Sunrise,' say the Gemell… “It’s no good trying to go to slee…
Come close to me, dear Annie, whi… A tale of burning love between a k… The pot was stalwart iron and the… And though their sides were black… Forget that kettle, Jamie, and th…
The vague sea thuds against the ma… And from their fragments age-long… Pebbles like flowers. Or the vague weather wanders in th… And up spring flowers with coloure…
THE bugler sent a call of high ro… “Lights out! Lights out!” to the… On the thin brazen notes he threw… “God, if it’s this for me next tim… O spare the phantom bugle as I li…