Love grasps my heart in a net Like the strong roots of a flower; So surely his root is set In my spirit, to hold me with powe… Yet to—night, O forgive me, Dear!

Name, that makes my heart beat, Heard by chance in the throng’d st… How delighted I turn to greet The vision adored, the vision rare… That surely should be where thou a…

Huge through the darkened street The Dray comes, rolling an uneven… Of wheels and trampling feet; The shaken windows stare in sleepy… Now through an open space,

Morn like a thousand shining spear… Terrible in the East appears. O hide me, leaves of lovely gloom, Where the young Dreams like lilie… What is this music that I lose

Time buys no wisdom like the eyes… Though youth itself be blinded wit… As a buoyant swimmer by the bursti… Of the resplendent surge, and know… The marvel of its own heart’s visi…

Where she reclines In a rock’s cup, Smooth, tawny—mossed, Under tall pines, Her eyes look up,

Day begins cold and misty on soile… That frost has ridged and crusted.… Comes, then a shape emerges from t… Without haste, trudging tracks the… With his breath white upon the air…

To a bare blue hill Wings an old thought roaming, At a random touch Of memory homing. The first of England

To whom but thee, my youth to dedi… My youth, which these few leaves h… Should I now come, although I com… Alas! and can but lay them on thy… To whom but thee? From thee, I kn…

High over the battling street I watch the wind blow In frenzy tearing the plane trees That are tossing below. The high balcony’s railing

The night is holy and haunted, Asleep in a vale of June. Stillness and earth—smell mingle With the beams’ unearthly boon.— Yet a terror is fallen upon me

Thump of a horse’s hoof behind the… Long stripes of shadow, and green… Between them; discrowned, glaucous… On their tall stalks; a rose With its great thorns blood—red in…

So sad and so lonely, Dear? What dream by the fire do you drea… So deep, that you could not hear My step as I entered? Dim Is the room and the ceiling above…

He stands on high in the torch—gla… With planted feet, with lifted axe… Behind, a gulf of crimsoned air; Beneath, the old wall that gapes a… Tossed fragments crash to dust and…

If I could sing the song of her Who makes my heart to sing; If I could catch the words to mat… Its secret blossoming; My song should be a heaven of soun…