It’s a very odd thing - As odd can be - That whatever Miss T eats Turns into Miss T.; Porridge and apples,

Puss loves man’s winter fire Now that the sun so soon Leaves the hours cold it warmed In burning June. She purrs full length before

Here lies a most beautiful lady, Light of step and heart was she; I think she was the most beautiful… That ever was in the West Country… But beauty vanishes, beauty passes…

Bitterly, England must thou griev… Though none of these poor men who… But did within his soul believe That death for thee was glorified. Ever they watched it hovering near…

If you would happy company win, Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, Idly in green to sway and spin, Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; a… A nimble titmouse enter in.

When the last colours of the day Have from their burning ebbed away… About that ruin, cold and lone, The cricket shrills from stone to… And scattering o’er its darkened g…

One moment take thy rest. Out of mere nought in space Beauty moved human breast To tell in this far face A dream in noonday seen.

When music sounds, gone is the ear… And all her lovely things even lov… Her flowers in vision flame, her f… Lift burdened branches, stilled wi… When music sounds, out of the wate…

Upon a bank, easeless with knobs o… Beneath a canopy of noonday smoke, I saw a measureless Beast, morose… With eyes like one from filthy dre… Who stares upon the daylight in de…

When all, and birds, and creeping… When the dark of night is deep, From the moving wonder of their li… Commit themselves to sleep. Without a thought, or fear, they s…

That one, alone, Who’s dared and gone To seek the Magic Wonderstone, No fear, or care, Or black despair

Have you been catching fish, Tom… Have you snared a weeping hare? Have you whistled 'No Nunny’ and… Or blinded a bird of the air? Have you trod like a murderer thro…

Winter is fallen early On the house of Stare; Birds in reverberating flocks Haunt its ancestral box; Bright are the plenteous berries

Thistle and darnell and dock grew… And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to spr… In the blazing heat of the day; Half asleep and half awake,

‘Who knocks? ’ ‘I, who was beauti… Beyond all dreams to restore, I from the roots of the dark thorn… And knock on the door.’ ‘Who speaks? ’ 'I—once was my spe…