Had I the fabled herb That brought to life the dead, Whom would I dare disturb In his eternal bed? Great Grenville would I wake,

Thy voice from inmost dreamland ca… The wastes of sleep thou makest fa… Bright o’er the ridge of darkness… The cataract of thy hair. The morn renews its golden birth:

[Mr. Oscar Wilde, having discover… And wilt thou, Oscar, from us fle… And must we, henceforth, wholly se… Shall thy laborious _jeux-d’esprit… Sadden our lives no more for ever?

(12TH OCTOBER 1492) From his adventurous prime He dreamed the dream sublime: Over his wandering youth It hung, a beckoning star.

To the eye and the ear of the Dre… This Dream out of darkness flew, Through the horn or the ivory port… But he wist not which of the two. It was the Human Spirit,

Strange the world about me lies, Never yet familiar grown– Still disturbs me with surprise, Haunts me like a face half known. In this house with starry dome,

Five-and-thirty black slaves, Half-a-hundred white, All their duty but to sing For their Queen’s delight, Now with throats of thunder,

When birds were songless on the bo… I heard thee sing. The world was full of winter, thou Wert full of spring. To-day the world’s heart feels ane…

’Twas at this season, year by year… The singer who lies songless here Was wont to woo a less austere, Less deep repose, Where Rotha to Winandermere

What profits it, O England, to pr… In camp and mart and council, and… With argosies thy oceans, and rene… With tribute levied on each golden… Thy treasuries, if thou canst hear…

SHE stands, a thousand-wintered t… By countless morns impearled; Her broad roots coil beneath the s… Her branches sweep the world; Her seeds, by careless winds conve…

Just for a day you crossed my life… Put my ignobler dreams to sudden s… Went your bright way, and left me… On my own world of poorer deed and… To fall back on my meaner world, a…

Yes! urban is your Muse, and owns An empire based on London stones; Yet flow’rs, as mountain violets s… Spring from the pavement 'neath he… Of wilder birth this Muse of mine…

In the night, in the night, When thou liest alone, Ah, the sounds that are blown In the freaks of the breeze, By the spirit that sends

She was a lady great and splendid, I was a minstrel in her halls. A warrior like a prince attended Stayed his steed by the castle wal… Far had he fared to gaze upon her.