In the year that’s come and gone,… Stooping slowly, gave us heart, an… In the year that’s coming on, thou… We at least will not forget aught… In the year that’s come and gone,…

From brief delights that rise to m… Out of unfathomable dole, I thank whatever gods there be For mine unconquerable soul. In the strong clutch of Circumsta…

Not to the staring Day, For all the importunate questionin… In his big, violent voice, Shall those mild things of bulk an… The Trees—God’s sentinels

I gave my heart to a woman— I gave it to her, branch and root. She bruised, she wrung, she tortur… She cast it under foot. Under her feet she cast it,

Fill a glass with golden wine, And the while your lips are wet Set your perfume unto mine, And forget. Every kiss we take and give

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pol… I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance

Gulls in an aery morrice Gleam and vanish and gleam . . . The full sea, sleepily basking, Dreams under skies of dream. Gulls in an aery morrice

Above the Crags that fade and glo… Starts the bare knee of Arthur’s… Ridged high against the evening bl… The Old Town rises, street on str… With lamps bejewelled, straight ah…

Gold or silver, every day, Dies to gray. There are knots in every skein. Hours of work and hours of play Fade away

Beside the idle summer sea, And in the vacant summer days, Light Love came fluting down the… Where you were loitering with me. Who have not welcomed even as we,

Bring her again, O western wind, Over the western sea! Gentle and good and fair and kind, Bring her again to me! Not that her fancy holds me dear,

I gave my heart to a woman— I gave it her, branch and root. She bruised, she wrung, she tortur… She cast it under foot. Under her feet she cast it,

O, Time and Change, they range an… From sunshine round to thunder! - They glance and go as the great wi… And the best of our dreams drive u… For Time and Change estrange, est…

I watched you saunter down the san… Serene and large, the golden weath… Flowed radiant round your peacock… And glistered from your jewelled h… Your tawny hair, turned strand on…

THE day’s high work is over and d… And these no more will need the su… Blow, you bugles of England, blow… These are gone where all must go, Mightily gone from the field they…