And mighty poets in their misery dead.

Choice word and measured phrase, above the reach Of ordinary men.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gen…

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; Of Him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along t…

I would have rather felt you round my throat Crushing out life, than waving me farewell!

'Who are you?' I asked the phantom, 'I am rest from Hate and Pride. 'I am friend to king and beggar, 'I am Alpha and Omega, 'I was councilor to Hagar 'But men …

Beneath this sod A poet lies, or that which once seemed he - Oh, lift a thought in prayer for S.T.C! That he, who many a year, with toil of breath, Found death…