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…

They are not those who used to fee… When we were young—they cannot be… These shapes that now bereave and… They are not those who used to fee… For would they not fair terms conc…

Minor Key Let me enjoy the earth no less Because the all-enacting Might That fashioned forth its lovelines… Had other aims than my delight.

(As sung by Mr. Charles Charring… O MY trade it is the rarest one, Simple shepherds all— My trade is a sight to see; For my customers I tie, and take…

South of the Line, inland from fa… A mouldering soldier lies—your cou… Awry and doubled up are his gray b… And on the breeze his puzzled phan… Nightly to clear Canopus: “I woul…

Clouds spout upon her Their waters amain In ruthless disdain,— Her who but lately Had shivered with pain

When the wasting embers redden the… And Life’s bare pathway looms lik… And from hall and parlour the livi… My perished people who housed them… They come and seat them around in…

A bird sings the selfsame song, With never a fault in its flow, That we listened to here those lon… Long years ago. A pleasing marvel is how

SNOW-BOUND in woodland, a mour… Dropt now and then from the bill o… Reached me on wind-wafts; and thus… Wearily waiting:— “I planned her a nest in a leafles…

We are getting to the end of visio… The impossible within this univers… Such as that better whiles may fol… And that our race may mend by reas… We know that even as larks in cage…

Why should this flower delay so lo…    To show its tremulous plumes? Now is the time of plaintive robin…    When flowers are in their tombs… Through the slow summer, when the…

I scanned her picture dreaming,    Till each dear line and hue Was imaged, to my seeming,    As if it lived anew. Her lips began to borrow

Why go to Saint-Juliot? What’s J… I’ve been but made fancy By some necromancy That much of my life claims the sp… Yes. I have had dreams of that pl…

Who, then, was Cestius,    And what is he to me? - Amid thick thoughts and memories m…    One thought alone brings he.    I can recall no word