Andromeda, and Other Poems

Come away with me, Tom, Term and talk are done; My poor lads are reaping, Busy every one. Curates mind the parish, Sweepers mind the court; We'll away to Snowdon For our ten day...

And should she die, her grave should be Upon the bare top of a sunny hill, Among the moorlands of her own fair land, Amid a ring of old and moss-grown stones In gorse and heathe...

And when he is parting the plunder of Rome, He shall pay for this song of mine, Neither maiden nor land, neither jewel nor gold, But one cup of Italian wine.

Over the camp-fires Drank I with heroes, Under the Donau bank, Warm in the snow trench: Sagamen heard I there, Men of the Longbeards, Cunning and ancient, Honey-sweet-voiced. Sc...

Over the mountain aloft ran a rush and a roll and a roaring; Downward the breeze came indignant, and leapt with a howl to the water, Roaring in cranny and crag, till the pillars...

Nor I wadna be a soldier, mither, to dice wi' ruffian bands, Pining weary months in castles, looking over wasted lands. Smoking byres, and shrieking women, and the grewsome sigh...

Andromeda Hypotheses Hypochondriacae Trehill Well In an Illuminated Missal The Weird Lady Palinodia A Hope The Poetry of a Root Crop Child Ballad Airly Beacon Sappho The Bad Squ...

'And what will you do, you bonny white dove? And what will you do for me?' 'Oh, it's I'll bring you to Our Lady's love, In the ways of chivalrie.'