Woolner and Stephens, Collinson,… And my first brother, each and eve… What portion is theirs now beneath… Which, even as here, in England m… For most of them life runs not the…

“Messieurs, le Dieu des peintres”… 'Twas Rubens, sculptured. A mean… Was the next thing we saw,—from va… His drivel. The museum: as we tro… Its steps, his bust held us at bay…

‘There is a budding morrow in midn… So sang our Keats, our English ni… And here, as lamps across the brid… In London’s smokeless resurrectio… Dark breaks to dawn. But o’er the…

Around the vase of Life at your s… He has not crept, but turned it wi… And all its sides already understa… There, girt, one breathes alert fo… Whose road runs far by sands and f…

Soft—littered is the new—year’s la… And in the hollowed haystack at it… The shepherd lies o’ night now, wa… At the ewes’ travailing call throu… The young rooks cheep 'mid the thi…

I sat with Love upon a woodside w… Leaning across the water, I and h… Nor ever did he speak nor looked a… But touched his lute wherein was a… The certain secret thing he had to…

Watch thou and fear; to—morrow tho… Or art thou sure thou shalt have t… Is not the day which God’s word p… To come man knows not when? In yo… Now while we speak, the sun speeds…

O lovely hand, that thy sweet self… In that thy pure and proper elemen… Whence erst the Lady of Love’s hi… Was born, and endless fires sprang… Even as her Loves to her their of…

The city’s steeple—towers remove a… Each singly; as each vain infatuat… Leaves God in heaven, and passes.… Each soon appears, so far. Yet th… The first is now scarce further or…

Even as a child, of sorrow that we… The dead, but little in his heart… Since without need of thought to h… Their turn it is to die and his to… Even so the winged New Love smile…

Some prisoned moon in steep cloud—… Throned queen and thralled; some d… Blazed with momentous memorable fi… Who hath not yearned and fed his h… Who, sleepless, hath not anguished…

NON NOI PITTORI! God of Nat… If these, not we! Be it not said,… Of us goes hence: “As these did,… His feet sought out their footprin… Because, dear God! the flesh Thou…

Her lute hangs shadowed in the app… While flashing fingers weave the s… Between its chords; and as the wil… The sea—bird for those branches le… But to what sound her listening ea…

LADY, in thy proud eyes There is a weary look, As if the spirit we know through t… Were daunted with rebuke To think that the heart of man hen…