Contents

Previous
  • Note

  • Contents

  • I. Two Legends

    • Glastonbury

    • Legend

  • II. First Poems

    • Rime

    • To an Elzevir Cicero

    • To a DÜrer Drawing of Antwerp Harbour

    • Pure Virginia

    • A Preface for a Tale I have never told

    • A Sonnet

    • “It was all in the Black Countree”

    • To a Pianist

    • A Fragment

    • Sea Poppies

    • “O, sing me a Song of the Wild West Wind”

    • Ære Perennius

    • The Old Kings

    • “O there be Kings whose Treasuries”

    • A Study

    • The Eremite

    • The House of Eld

    • The South-west Wind

    • Schumann: Erstes Verlust

    • “Dark Boughs against a Golden Sky”

    • “Wind of the Darkness”

    • Creator Spiritus

    • Wind over the Sea

    • Songs on the Downs

  • III. Last Poems and “The Burial of Sophocles”

    • “We who have bowed ourselves to Time”

    • Anglia Valida in Senectute

    • “Dark is the World our Fathers left us”

    • Awakening

    • Ave atque Vale

    • “O, one came down from Seven Hills”

    • Sonnet to the British Navy

    • The Last Meeting

    • The New Age and the Old

    • To the Cultured

    • Afterwards

    • Domum redit Poeta

    • Memories

    • Intercessional

    • April 1916

    • “Over the Hills and Hollows Green”

    • Sonnet

    • “O Long the Fiends of War shall dance”

    • For R. Q. G.

    • “Sun and Shadow and Winds of Spring”

    • “Let us tell Quiet Stories of Kind Eyes”

    • “Save that Poetic Fire”

    • The Burial of Sophocles

    • “So we lay down the Pen”

[pg 11]

If there be one among the Muses nine
Loves not so much Completion as the Will,
And less the austere saint than the fond sinner:
Loves scanty ruins, garlanded with years,
Better than lofty palaces entire:
To her I dedicate this spoilÉd sheaf
Of rime that scarcely came to harvesting.
There is a window here in Magdalen
Composite, methinks, of fragments that stark Mars
Has scattered. Even so my verses be
Composite of memories and half-uttered dreams
Welded together sans due ordinance,
Which might have been far other, but that Mars
Scattered and harried them with his ruthless flail.

[pg 13]

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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