She came not into the Presence as… Crowned, white—robed and adoring,… She stood as a straight young sold… Who asks a boon of his captain in… She said: ‘Now have I stayed too…

My poplars are like ladies trim, Each conscious of her own estate; In costume somewhat over prim, In manner cordially sedate, Like two old neighbours met to cha…

So quietly I seem to sit apart; I think she does not know or guess… How dear this certain hour to my o… When in our quiet street the shado… She leans and listens at the littl…

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?

The three ghosts on the lonesome r…    Spake each to one another, “Whence came that stain about your…    No lifted hand may cover?” “From eating of forbidden fruit,

I wish we might go gypsying one da… On a blue October morning Beneath a cloudless sky, When all the world’s a vibrant har… The winds o’ God have strung,

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…

For mocking on men’s faces He only sees instead The hidden, hundred traces Of tears their eyes have shed. Above their lips denying,

God send thee peace, Oh, great un… A world away, I pray that thou ma… Softly as on the Well-Belovèd’s b… Where ever in her wistful dreams t… At dawn my prayer is all for thee,…

ONE star for all she had, And in her heart One wound—yet is she glad For all its smart As they are glad who bear

High above his happy head Little leaves of Spring were spre… And adown the dewy lawn Soft as moss the young green grass Wooed his footsteps, and the dawn

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…

He made him a love o’ dreams— He raised for his heart’s delight— (As the heart of June a crescent… A frail, fair spirit of light. He gave her the gift of joy—

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.

April will come to the quiet town That I left long ago, Scattering primroses up and down’€… Row upon happy row. (Oh, little green lane, will she c…