I never climb a high hill Or gaze across the lea, But, Oh, beyond the two of them, Beyond the height and blue of them… I’m looking for the sea.

The moon tonight is like the sun Through blossomed branches seen; Come out with me, dear silent one, And trip it on the green. ‘Nay, Lad, go you within its ligh…

There are in Paradise Souls neither great nor wise, Yet souls who wear no less The crown of faithfulness. My master bade me watch the flock…

White rose-leaves in my hands, I toss you all away; The winds shall blow you through t… To seek my wedding day. Or East you go, or West you go

Orchards in the Spring-time! Oh,… Filmy mists of pink and white abov… Lifting and drifting,—how my eyes… I’m staring at a dirty wall beyond… Orchards in the Spring-time! Deep…

‘Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Have you any wool?’ ‘That I have, my Master, Three bags full.’ One is for the mother who prays fo…

To you he gave his laughter and hi… His words that of all words were m…    His glad, mad moments when the… And his wild song outshrilled the…    For you that memory, but happie…

What do they know of youth, who st… They but the singers of a golden s… Who may not guess its worth or won… Like largesse to the throng. We only,—young no longer,—old so l…

They brought to the little Prince… The lovely things, the beautiful t… They covered her floor with crimso… They hung the windows with cloth o… (Lest the highway show an unlovely…

I said I will go back again where… Were glad together. But my dear,… Where are the roses we were wont t… The songs we used to hear? I said the hearth-flame that once…

When the white dawn comes I shall kneel to welcome it; The dread that darkened on my eyes Shall vanish and be gone. I shall look upon it

The little dream she had forgot Oh, long and long ago, Came back across the April fields And touched her garment so (As might a wind-blown primrose cl…

They are ashamed who leave so soon The Inn of Grief—who thought to s… Through many a faithful sun and mo… Yet tarry but a day. Shame-faced I watch them pay the…

Mothers of men—the words are good… Pride in the very sound of them, s… Why is it their faces haunt me, wi… Ever some dear thing vanished and… Mothers of Men?