We walked where Victor Jove was s… And passed to Livia’s rich red mu… Whence, thridding cave and Cripto… We gained Caligula’s dissolving p… And each ranked ruin tended to beg…

For long the cruel wish I knew That your free heart should ache f… While mine should bear no ache for… For, long—the cruel wish!—I knew How men can feel, and craved to vi…

AS evening shaped I found me on a… Which sight could scarce sustain: The black lean land, of featureles… Was like a tract in pain. “This scene, like my own life,” I…

Between us now and here -    Two thrown together Who are not wont to wear    Life’s flushest feather - Who see the scenes slide past,

In Memory of one of the Writer’s… with Napoleon In a ferny byway Near the great South-Wessex High… A homestead raised its breakfast-s…

Much wonder I—here long low—laid—    That this dead wall should be Betwixt the Maker and the made,    Between Thyself and me! For, say one puts a child to nurse…

A shaded lamp and a waving blind, And the beat of a clock from a dis… On this scene enter—winged, horned… A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledo… While 'mid my page there idly stan…

NOT a line of her writing have I… Not a thread of her hair, No mark of her late time as dame i… I may picture her there; And in vain do I urge my unsight

WHEN I look forth at dawning, po… Field, flock, and lonely tree, All seem to look at me Like chastened children sitting si… Their faces dulled, constrained, a…

Pet was never mourned as you, Purrer of the spotless hue, Plumy tail, and wistful gaze While you humoured our queer ways, Or outshrilled your morning call

To my native place Bent upon returning, Bosom all day burning To be where my race Well were known, ‘twas much with m…

Song of the Soldiers What of the faith and fire within… Men who march away Ere the barn-cocks say Night is growing gray,

That love’s dull smart distressed… He shrewdly learnt to see, But that I was in love with a dea… Never suspected he. He searched for the trace of a pic…

Here goes a man of seventy-four, Who sees not what life means for h… And here another in years a score Who reads its very figure and trim… The one who shall walk to-day with…