The stars hang thick in the apple tree,The south wind smells of the pungent sea,Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew.The night's for you, Sweetheart...
This little bowl is like a mossy poolIn a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets growNodding in chequered sunshine of the trees;A quiet place, still, wit...
The Fool Errant sat by the highway of lifeAnd his gaze wandered up and his gaze wandered down,A vigorous youth, but with no wish to walk,Yet his longi...
Oh! To be a flowerNodding in the sun,Bending, then upspringingAs the breezes run;Holding upA scent-brimmed cup,Full of summer's fragrance to the s...
It winds along the face of a cliffThis path which I long to explore,And over it dashes a waterfall,And the air is full of the roarAnd the thunderous v...
Who shall declare the joy of the running!Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight!Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather,Sweeping, wide-win...
I own a solace shut within my heart,A garden full of many a quaint delightAnd warm with drowsy, poppied sunshine; bright,Flaming with lilies out of wh...
When you, my Dear, are away, away,How wearily goes the creeping day.A year drags after morning, and nightStarts another year of candle light.O Pausing...
High up above the open, welcoming doorIt hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim.Once, long ago, it was a waving treeAnd knew the sun and shadow throu...
What is poetry? Is it a mosaicOf coloured stones which curiously are wroughtInto a pattern? Rather glass that's taughtBy patient labor any hue to ...