THERE are white moon daisies in… Where the flowered grass scatters… There are purple orchis by the woo… There are pale dog-roses by the wh… And the grass, the grass is tall,…

RED tulip-buds last night caresse… The sacred ivory of her breast. She met me, eager to divine What gold-heart bud of hope was mi… Nor eyes nor lips were strong to p…

Daphnis dearest, wherefore weave m… Webs of lies lest truth should gri… I could pardon much, believe me: Dower me, Daphnis, or bereave me, Kiss me, kill me, love me, leave m…

If Jesus came to London, Came to London to-day, He would not go to the West End, He would come down our way; He’d talk with the children dancin…

THE house is haunted; when the li… Go pattering about it in their pla… I tremble lest the little one shou… The ghosts that haunt the happy ni… And yet I think they only come to…

We do not clamour for vengeance, We do not whine for fear; We have cried in the outer darknes… Where was no man to hear. We cried to man and he heard not;

NOT in rich glebe and ripe green… Does Summer weave her sweet resis… But in high hills, and moorlands w… The vast enchantment of her presen… Wide sky, and sky-wide waste of th…

Across the field of day In sudden blazon lay The pallid bar of gold Borne on the shield of day. Night had endured so long,

Did you deceive me? Did I trust A heart of fire to a heart of dust… What matter? Since once the world… And you gave me the rose of the wo… That was the time to live for! Fl…

O thrush, is it true? Your song tells Of a world born anew, Of fields gold with buttercups, wo… With hyacinth bells;

MAKE strong your door with bolt… Make every window fast; Strong brass and iron as they are, They are so easy passed— So easy broken and cast aside,

EVOLVING, changing, onwards st… We must advance, invent, construct… No matter what a price we have to… We must obtain perfection, and no… Perfection in our luxuries, the ho…

DEAR, if I told you, made your s… Showed you the ghosts that o’er my… What joy were mine—to cast aside t… And clasp you close with no base l… You have given all, and still woul…

This was my little son Who leapt and laughed on my knee: Body we made with love, Soul made with love by Thee. This was the mystery

(Who asked a Song in Spring) WHY do you bid your poet sing, Who has no mind to song— Who only wants to see the Spring, Long sought and tarrying long?