O you, dear trees, you have learne… You must have studied this only th… Men have thought of God and laugh… And of love. And of song. But you, dear trees, from your bir…

They used to say Our mother brought us up like hot-… From day to day Such wondrous cares were ours Her love inspired.

I had a lover who betrayed me. First he implored and then gainsai… Hopeless I dared no more importun… I found new friends, a kinder fort… Silence, indifference did greet me…

I cannot be tricked out in lovely… All times, all days. My mind has moods of hating pearl… And jewel-blaze. Nor is the body worthily attired

O sweet and fair! These words are… O sweet and fair! A year ago I’ld… Some better words of praise Than sweet and fair. O sweet and fair, and weak, and mo…

Sometimes I wish that I were Hel… And wise as Pallas, That I might have most royal gift… In love’s sweet chalice. Then I reflect my dear love is no…

I am no mystic. All the ways of G… Are dark to me. I know not if he lived or if he di… In agony. My every act has reference to man.

O little plum tree in the garden,… Aflower again, With memories of a million springs… Brief years of pain. O little tree, you have the power…

Florence kneels down to say her pr… At night. I wonder what she says and why she… To pray at night. I think when she kneels down to pr…

Sometimes I watch you, mark your… Your grave brow over-weighted with… Your mouth’s straight line—details… That all aloofness in your aspect… And yet when in the dark down from…

When I go into town at half past… Great crowds of people stream acro… Hurrying, although it’s only half… They are the invisible people of t… When you go in to town about eleve…

Each day I sit in an ill-lighted… To teach a boy; For one hour by the clock great wo… Are our employ. We read St Agnes’ Eve and that m…

Our palm designed to grow In deserts, sent roots seeking far… Channels where waters flow. And in the city found Intricate pipings where the waters…

The sun’s my fire. Golden, from a magnificence of blu… Should be its hue. But woolly clouds, Like boarding-house old ladies, co…

I’m not his wife. I am his paramo… His wayside love, picked up in jou… Rose of the hedgerows; fragrant, t… Me down beside the ditch, a droope… Some country boy may stick into hi…