Comrades of risk and rigour long a… Who have done battle under honour’… Hoped (living or shot down) some m… And wooed bright Danger for a thr… Laugh, oh laugh well, that we have…

Once, I remember, when we were at… I had come into church, and waited… Ere lastly kneeling to communicate Alone: and thinking that you would… Then, with closed eyes (having rec…

A man there was, a gentle soul, Of mild enquiring mind, Who came into this neighbourhood Its wonders for to find [ … ] They told him who had put the lid

Bodies of comrade soldiers gleamin… Within the mill-pool where you flo… And lounge around part-clothed or… Beautiful shining forms of men ali… O living lutes stringed with the s…

Here where no tree changes, Here in a prison of pine, I think how Autumn ranges The country that is mine. There—rust upon the chill breeze–

I’m homesick for my hills again - My hills again! To see above the Severn plain, Unscabbarded against the sky, The blue high blade of Cotswold l…

I CAN NOT give you happiness: For wishes long have ceased to bri… The Fortune which to page and kin… They brought in those good centuri… When with a quaint and starry wand

God dreamed a man; Then, having firmly shut Life like a precious metal in his… Withdrew, His labour done. Thus d… Our various divinity and sin.

(To E.M., Who drew them in Ho… From troubles of the world I turn… Beautiful comical things Sleeping or curled Their heads beneath white wings

Big glory mellowing on the mellowi… And in the Uttle valleys, thatch… Wrought by the manifold and vagran… Of sun and ripening rain and wind… My country, that great magic cup w…

In general, if you want a man to d… Say, swim the Channel, climb St.… The Bank of England, why, you fin… Than if you merely wanted him to l… But in the British Army, it’s jus…

No mortal comes to visit me to-day… Only the gay and early-rising Sun Who strolled in nonchalantly, just… ‘ Good morrow, and despair not, fo… But like the tune which comforted…

Oh pleasant things there be Without this prison yard: Fields green, and many a tree With shadow on the sward, And drifting clouds that pass

Dear, rash, warm-hearted friend. So careless of the end, So worldly-foolish, so divinely-wi… Who, caring not one jot For place, gave all you’d got

Walking round our cages like the l… Zoo, We think of things that we have do… we mean to do: Of girls we left behind us, of let…