Beloved, I would tell a ghostly t… That hides beneath the simple name… Wild beyond hope the news—the dead… The shapes that slept, their breat… Ascend from out sarcophagus and ur…

Noon like a naked sword lies on th… Heavy with gold, and Time itself… The little stream, too indolent to… Loiters below the cloudy willow bo… That build amid the glare a shadow…

Primrose and Violet– May they help thee to forget All that love should not remember, Sweet as meadows after rain When the sun has come again,

(WESTMINSTER, OCTOBER 12,… Great man of song, whose glorious… Within the lap of death sleeps wel… Down the dark road, seeking the de… Thy faithful, fearless, shining so…

In an old book I found her face Writ by a dead man long ago– I found, and then I lost the plac… So nothing but her face I know, And her soft name writ fair below.

The dead arose. Long had they dre… Deep in the grass of the still gra… Of meeting their beloved once more… They knocked at each familiar door… They waited eagerly to see

The sun is weary, for he ran So far and fast to-day; The birds are weary, for who sang So many songs as they? The bees and butterflies at last

To James Ashcroft Noble, Poet and Critic, a small acknowle… unforgotten kindness Inscriptions Poet, a truce to your song!

After the war—I hear men ask—what… As tho this rock-ribbed world, scu… And bastioned deep in the ethereal… Can never be its morning self agai… Because of this brief madness, man…

Canst thou be true across so many… So many days that keep us still ap… Ah, canst thou live upon remembere… And ask no warmer comfort for thy… I call thy name right up into the…

(AFTER THE NORWEGIAN… Midnight, and through the blind th… On silver feet across the sleeping… Ah, moonlight, what is this thou a… Her breast, a great sweet lily in…

My mouth to thy mouth Ah never, ah never! My breast from thy breast Eternities sever; But my soul to thy soul

Through the dark wood There came to me a friend, Bringing in his cold hands Two words-'The End.’ His face was fair

_To Two Friends married in the N… (TO. MR. AND MRS. WELCH) Another year to its last day, Like a lost sovereign, runaway, Tips down the gloomy grid of time:

O ships upon the sea, O shapes of… O lands whose names are made of sp… Old painted empires that are ever… From Cochin-China down to Zanzib… O Beauty simple, soul-less, and b…