A linnet in a gilded cage,— A linnet on a bough,— In frosty winter one might doubt Which bird is luckier now. But let the trees burst out in lea…

I loved my love from green of Spr… Until sere Autumn’s fall; But now that leaves are withering How should one love at all? One heart’s too small

Three little children On the wide wide earth, Motherless children— Cared for from their birth By tender angels.

‘There’s a footstep coming: look o… ‘The leaves are falling, the wind… No one cometh across the lea.’— ‘There’s a footstep coming: O sis… ‘The ripple flashes, the white foa…

I, a princess, king—descended, dec… Would rather be a peasant with her… For all I shine so like the sun,… Two and two my guards behind, two… Two and two on either hand, they g…

“Sweet, thou art pale.” “More pale to see, Christ hung upon the cruel tree And bore His Father’s wrath for m… “Sweet, thou art sad.”

A cold wind stirs the blackthorn To burgeon and to blow, Besprinkling half—green hedges With flakes and sprays of snow. Through coldness and through keenn…

Where sunless rivers weep Their waves into the deep, She sleeps a charmed sleep: Awake her not. Led by a single star,

Hear now a curious dream I dreame… Each word whereof is weighed and s… I stood beside Euphrates while it… Like overflowing Jordan in its yo… It waxed and coloured sensibly to…

She stands as pale as Parian stat… Like Cleopatra when she turned at… And felt her strength above the R… And felt the aspic writhing in her… Her face is steadfast toward the s…

Chide not; let me breathe a little… For I shall not mourn him long; Though the life—cord was so brittl… The love—cord was very strong. I would wake a little space

It is a land with neither night no… Nor heat nor cold, nor any wind, n… Nor hills nor valleys; but one eve… Stretches thro’ long unbroken mile… While thro’ the sluggish air a twi…

Love, strong as Death, is dead. Come, let us make his bed Among the dying flowers: A green turf at his head; And a stone at his feet,

Golden—winged, silver—winged, Winged with flashing flame, Such a flight of birds I saw, Birds without a name: Singing songs in their own tongue

The days are clear, Day after day, When April’s here, That leads to May, And June