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(A Memory of Christiana C——) Where Blackmoor was, the road that led       To Bath, she could not show,Nor point the sky that overspread       Towns ten miles off or so. But that Calcutta stood this way,   …

    Had he and I but met    By some old ancient inn,We should have set us down to wet    Right many a nipperkin!     But ranged as infantry,    And staring face to face,I shot at…

I rose at night, and visited       The Cave of the Unborn:And crowding shapes surrounded me For tidings of the life to be,Who long had prayed the silent Head       To haste its advent morn. Their…

    Yea, as I sit here, crutched, and cricked, and bent,    I think of Panthera, who underwent    Much from insidious aches in his decline;    But his aches were not radical like mine;    They were the twinges of old wounds – the feel    Of the…

    O sweet sincerity! —    Where modern methods be    What scope for thine and thee?     Life may be sad past saying,    Its greens for ever graying,    Its faiths to dust decaying;     And youth may have foreknown it,    And riper seasons shown it,    But custom cries: “Disown it:…

I saw him steal the light away      That haunted in her eye:It went so gently none could sayMore than that it was there one day      And missing by-and-by. I watched her longer, and he stole   …

“I have finished another year,” said God,     “In grey, green, white, and brown;I have strewn the leaf upon the sod,Sealed up the worm within the clod,     And let the last sun down.” “And what’s the good of it?”…

        A time there was — as one may guessAnd as, indeed, earth’s testimonies tell —        Before the birth of consciousness,               When all went well.      …

I pace along, the rain-shafts riddling me,Mile after mile out by the moorland way,And up the hill, and through the ewe-leaze grayInto the lane, and round the corner tree; Where, as my clothing clams me, mire-bestarred,And the enfeebled light dies…

There was a time in former years—  While my roof-tree was his—When I should have been distressed by fears  At such a night as this!I should have murmured anxiously,  ‘The prickling rain strikes cold;His road is bare of hedge or…