To commemorate the virtue of Homo… Love, that in a tear was drown’d, Lives revived by a tear. Stella heard them mourn around Love that in a tear was drown’d,

O pastoral heart of England! like… Of green days telling with a quiet… O wave into the sunset flowing cal… O tirèd lark descending on the whe… Lies it all peace beyond the weste…

Know you her secret none can utter… Hers of the Book, the tripled Cro… Still on the spire the pigeons flu… Still by the gateway flits the gow… Still on the street, from corbel a…

Young Knight, the lists are set t… Hereafter shall be time to pray In sepulture, with hands of stone. Ride, then! outride the bugle blow… And gaily dinging down the van,

Deep, Love, yea, very deep. And in the dark exiled, I have no sense of light but still… And know the breast, but not the e… Saw ne’er his mother near, nor if…

After T. I. As I laye a-dreamynge, a-dreamyng… O softlye moaned the dove to her m… And meseemed unto my syghte Came rydynge many a knyghte

O Mary Leslie, blithe and shrill The bugles blew for Spain: And you below the Castle Hill Stood in the crowd your lane. Then hearts were wild to watch us…

Nay, more than violets These thoughts of thine, friend! Rather thy reedy brook— Taw’s tributary— At midnight murmuring,

My Juggins, see: the pasture gree… Obeying Nature’s kindly law, Renews its mantle; there has been A thaw. The frost-bound earth is free at l…

Down in the street the last late h… Still westward, but with backward… The harlot shuffles to her lonely… The tall policeman pauses but to t… A flash into the empty portico;

All night a fountain pleads, Telling her beads, Her tinkling beads monotonous 'nea… And where she springs atween, Two statues lean—

On seeing her smile repeated in he… A thousand songs I might have mad… Of You, and only You; A thousand thousand tongues of fir… That trembled down a golden wire

By W—ll—m C—wp—r. ’Tis evening. See with its resort… Rude Carfax teems, and waistcoats… With too-familiar elbow, swell the… Vortiginous. The boating man retu…

Be aisy an’ list to a chune That’s sung of bowld Tim the Drag… Sure, ’twas he’d niver miss To be stalin’ a kiss, Or a brace, by the light of the mo…

He. Aglai-a! Aglai-a! Sweet, awaken and be glad. She. Who is this that calls Aglaia?