Their songs wake singing echoes in my land.
Christina Rossetti.
| Sweet and low, sweet and low | [Frontispiece] |
| “Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by” | [6] |
| Across the Sea | [16] |
| “My love on a fair May morning” | [24] |
| Song in the Garden | [38] |
| The night has a thousand eyes | [44] |
| A Game of Chess | [50] |
| “I ’ve been roaming, I ’ve been roaming” | [62] |
| “A maid I know,—and March winds blow” | [82] |
| “That bright May morning long ago” | [90] |
| “I remember, I remember” | [106] |
| I wandered by the brook-side | [112] |
| “Three fishers went sailing away to the West” | [124] |
| Ianthe | [132] |
| Gertrude’s Necklace | [140] |
| “She turned back at the last to wait” | [158] |
| King Death | [176] |
| “I looked and saw your eyes” | [194] |
| Break, Break, Break | [212] |
| “When Spring casts all her swallows forth” | [224] |
The writer of prose, by intelligence taught,
Says the thing that will please, in the way that he ought.
Frederick Locker-Lampson.
No species of poetry is more ancient than the lyrical, and yet none shows so little sign of having outlived the requirements of human passion. The world may grow tired of epics and of tragedies, but each generation, as it sees the hawthorns blossom and the freshness of girlhood expand,