My Love in Her Attire
My love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her:
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So We'll Go No More A-roving
So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
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Song
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
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Mild Is The Parting Year
Mild is the parting year and sweet
The odour of the falling spray;
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Untitled
There are little traits that keep me bound...
I think of nothing else save the bright face of my lady-
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To Earthward
Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
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It's all I have to bring to-day
It's all I have to bring to-day,
This, and my heart beside,
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Bereft
Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
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Rose Aylmer
Ah, what avails the sceptred race;
Ah, what the form divine.
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I Never Lost As Much
I never lost as much but twice,
And that was in the sod.
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