A battered swordsman, slashed and… I scarce had thought to fight agai… But love of the old game dies hard… So to’t, my lady, if you’re fain! I’m scarce the mettle to refrain,

Go, little book, and be the lookin… Of her dear soul, The mirror of her moments as they… Keeping the whole; Wherein she still may look on yest…

The bloom upon the grape I ask no… Nor pampered fragrance of the soft… I only ask of Him who keeps the D… To open it for one who fearless go… Into the dark, from which, relucta…

‘A Library in a garden! The phrase seems to contain the wh… of man.’-Mr. EDMUND GOSSE in Gossip in a Library A world of books amid a world of g…

So sang young Love in high and ho… Of a white Love that hath no eart… So rapt within his vision he did s… Less like a boyish singer than a s… Ah, Boy, it is a dream for life t…

All beauty is but thee in echo-sha… No lovely thing but echoes some of… Vainly some touch of thy perfectio… Sighing as fair as thou thyself to… Therefore, be not disquieted that…

Stream that leapt and danced Down the rocky ledges, All the summer long, Past the flowered sedges, Under the green rafters,

O little Heart, So much I see Thy hidden smart, So much I long To sing some song

Her talk was all of woodland thing…    Of little lives that pass Away in one green afternoon,    Deep in the haunted grass; For she had come from fairyland,

I had no where to go, I had no money to spend: ‘O come with me,’ the Beaver said… ‘I live at the world’s end.’ ‘Does the world ever end!’

Shadows! the only shadows that I… Are happy shadows of the light of… The radiance immortal shining thro… Your sea-deep eyes up from the sou… Your shadow, like a rose’s, on the…

Summer gone, Winter here; Ways are white, Skies are clear. And the sun

When thou art gone, then all the r… Mornings no more shall dawn, Roses no more shall blow, Thy lovely face withdrawn— Nor woods grow green again after t…

Only a breath-hardly a breath! Th… Is still a huddled alabaster floor Of shelving ice and shattered slab… Stern wreckage of the fiercely fro… Gleaming in mailed wastes of white…

When the long day has faded to its… The flowers gone, and all the sing… And there is no companion left sav… Ah! there is one, Though in her grave she lies this…