Tall and young and light of tongue… Gallantly riding by wood and lea, He was ware of a maiden fair And turned and whispered, ‘Rememb… (Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, L…

No comfort, nay, no comfort. Yet… In Sorrow’s cause with Sorrow int… Burst not the great heart,—this is… Ah sentence it to suffer, not to d… ‘Comfort?’ If Jesus wept at Beth…

Oh Ladye fair, oh Ladye fair and… Where’er thou be, Canst thou divine The Love that hungers thus in me? The secret cell where lone I lie…

Doth this hand live? Trust not a… My country! Smite that cheek; the… But of the clay! no flush of shame… This is the smell o’ the grave. L… And see that brow. Lo! how the de…

Have you heard the Snowdrops ring… Their bells to themselves? Smaller and whiter than the singin… Of any fairy elves Who follow Mab their Queen

Lo, this is night. Hast thou, oh… Thy countenance, or is thy golden… Shortened, or from thy shining pla… Art thou put down and lost? Neith… Refused thy constant face, nor is…

Where are you, Poets, that a Hero… Unsung? He who, when Duty brought… His billet of rest toiled on till… The countersign of Glory? There h… And in the silence of your poesies

The sun that in Breadalbane’s lak… Was melting to the sea down golden… When a cry came along the peopled… ‘Sebastopol is ours!’ From that w… I turned, and leaning on a time-wo…

The groan of fallen Hosts; a torr… Of cities; battle-cries of Right… Where armies shout to rocking flee… On thundering oceans to the thunde… And high o’er all-long, long prolo…

Down by the Sutlej shore, Where sound the trumpet and the wi… At winter’s eve did come A gaunt old northern lion, at whos… The myriad howlers of thy wilds ar…

My Love, my Lord, I think the toil of glorious day i… I see thee leaning on thy jewelled… And a light-hearted child of Fran… Is dancing to thee in the sun,

‘And it shall come to pass at even… There shall be light.’ Lord, it h… As one day to the world so now to… Thine advent. My dark eve is whit… My year so sour and green is gold…

Were Shakspeare born a twin, his… (Not of the golden but the silver… Should be like thee: so, with such… Sweeten his looks, so, with her de… His voice, (a king’s words writ ou…

How shall I sing? the thing I cra… To say is speechless as a Lover’s… How shall I give to thee What even now is all so wholly thi… That but by losing thee in me

FIRST came the primrose, On the bank high, Like a maiden looking forth From the window of a tower When the battle rolls below,