Flee into some forgotten night and… Of all dark long my moon-bright co… Beyond the rumour even of Paradis… There, out of all remembrance, mak… Seek we some close hid shadow for…

Far are the shades of Arabia, Where the Princes ride at noon, ‘Mid the verdurous vales and thick… Under the ghost of the moon; And so dark is that vaulted purple

Peace in thy hands, Peace in thine eyes, Peace on thy brow; Flower of a moment in the eternal… Peace with me now.

Puss loves man’s winter fire Now that the sun so soon Leaves the hours cold it warmed In burning June. She purrs full length before

Have you been catching fish, Tom… Have you snared a weeping hare? Have you whistled 'No Nunny’ and… Or blinded a bird of the air? Have you trod like a murderer thro…

Thistle and darnell and dock grew… And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to spr… In the blazing heat of the day; Half asleep and half awake,

The far moon maketh lovers wise In her pale beauty trembling down, Lending curved cheeks, dark lips,… A strangeness not their own. And, though they shut their lids t…

Most wounds can Time repair; But some are mortal—these: For a broken heart there is no bal… No cure for a heart at ease— At ease, but cold as stone,

When all, and birds, and creeping… When the dark of night is deep, From the moving wonder of their li… Commit themselves to sleep. Without a thought, or fear, they s…

When thin-strewn memory I look th… I see most clearly poor Miss Loo, Her tabby cat, her cage of birds, Her nose, her hair—her muffled wor… And how she’d open her green eyes,

Here lies a most beautiful lady, Light of step and heart was she; I think she was the most beautiful… That ever was in the West Country… But beauty vanishes, beauty passes…

As Ann came in one summer’s day, She felt that she must creep, So silent was the clear cool house… It seemed a house of sleep. And sure, when she pushed open the…

“Sweep thy faint strings, Musicia… With thy long lean hand; Downward the starry tapers burn, Sinks soft the waning sand; The old hound whimpers couched in…

Who said, “Peacock Pie”? The old King to the sparrow: Who said, “Crops are ripe”? Rust to the harrow: Who said, “Where sleeps she now?

Down the Hill of Ludgate, Up the Hill of Fleet, To and fro and East and West With people flows the street; Even the King of England