Love, you have led me to the stran… Here, where the stilly, sunset sea… Ever receding silently, Lays bare a shining stretch of san… Which, as we tread, in waving line…

She, who so long has lain Stone-stiff with folded wings, Within my heart again The brown bird wakes and sings. Brown nightingale, whose strain

How like her! But ’tis she hersel… Comes up the crowded street, How little did I think, the morn, My only love to meet! Whose else that motion and that mi…

I lounge in the doorway and lan… While Tom, Dick and Harry are da… My spirit rises to the music’s bea… There is a leaden fiend lurks in m… To move unto your motion, Love, w…

(AN ECHO FROM A LARGE… That was love that I had before Years ago, when my heart was young… Ev’ry smile was a gem you wore; Ev’ry word was a sweet song sung.

I will be glad because it is the… I will forget the winter in my hea… Dead hopes and withered promise; a… A little joy from life ere life de… For spendthrift youth with passion…

A haunted town thou art to me.<… —Andrew Lang To-day in Florence all the air Is soft with spring, with sunlight… In the tall street gay folks are m…

Green is the plane-tree in the squ… The other trees are brown; They droop and pine for country ai… The plane-tree loves the town. Here from my garret-pane, I mark

The lion remembers the forest, The lion in chains; To the bird that is captive a visi… Of woodland remains. One strains with his strength at t…

Two terrors fright my soul by nigh… The first is Life, and with her c… A weary, winding train of maidens… With forward-fronting eyes, too sa… Upon whose kindred faces, blank an…

What ails my senses thus to cheat? What is it ails the place, That all the people in the street Should wear one woman’s face? The London trees are dusty-brown

What does youth know of love? Little enough, I trow! He plucks the myrtle for his brow, For his forehead the rose. Nay, but of love

To E.M.S. Here, where your garden fenced abo… Here, where the unmoved summer air… With mixed delight of lavender and… Dreaming I linger in the noontide…

With fruit and flowers the board i… The wine and laughter flow; I’ll not complain—could one expect So dull a world to know? You look across the fruit and flow…

Put the sweet thoughts from out… The dreams from out thy breast; No joy for thee—but thou shalt fin… Thy rest All day I could not work for woe,