N WHITE
SWEET ARE HIS WAYS WHO RULES ABOVE
O NIGHT OF NIGHTS
DEAR IS THE LOST WIFE TO A LONE MAN'S HEART
WEEPING AND WAILING NEEDS MUST BE
JESUS, THE LAMB OF GOD
THOU HAST BEEN ALWAY GOOD TO ME
THOU THAT SLEEPEST NOT AFRAID
NOW WINTER PAST, THE WHITE-THORN BOWER
SUCH AS HAVE NOT GOLD TO BRING THEE
A MORN OF GUILT, AN HOUR OF DOOM
MARY OF MAGDALA
WOULD I, TO SAVE MY DEAR CHILD?

AT ONE AGAIN

SONNETS.
FANCY
COMPENSATION
LOOKING DOWN
WORK
WISHING
TO ----
ON THE BORDERS OF CANNOCK CHASE
AN ANCIENT CHESS KING
COMFORT IN THE NIGHT
THOUGH ALL GREAT DEEDS
A SNOW MOUNTAIN
SLEEP
PROMISING
LOVE
FAILURE

A BIRTHDAY WALK
NOT IN VAIN I WAITED
A GLEANING SONG
WITH A DIAMOND
MARRIED LOVERS
A WINTER SONG
BINDING SHEAVES
THE MARINER'S CAVE
A REVERIE
DEFTON WOOD
THE LONG WHITE SEAM
AN OLD WIFE'S SONG
COLD AND QUIET
SLEDGE BELLS
MIDSUMMER NIGHT, NOT DARK, NOT LIGHT
THE BRIDEGROOM TO HIS BRIDE
THE FAIRY WOMAN'S SONG
ABOVE THE CLOUDS
SLEEP AND TIME
BEES AND OTHER-FELLOW-CREATURES
THE GYPSY'S SELLING SONG
A WOOING SONG
A COURTING SONG
LOVE'S THREAD OF GOLD
THE LEAVES OF LIGN ALOES
THE DAYS WITHOUT ALLOY
FEATHERS AND MOSS
ON THE ROCKS BY ABERDEEN
LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT
SONG FOR A BABE
GIVE US LOVE AND GIVE US PEACE

THE TWO MARGARETS
MARGARET BY THE MERE SIDE
MARGARET IN THE XEBEC

A STORY OF DOOM

POEMS

ROSAMUND.

_His blew His winds, and they were scattered._

'One soweth and another reapeth.'
Ay,
Too true, too true. One soweth--unaware
Cometh a reaper stealthily while he dreams--
Bindeth the golden sheaf, and in his bosom
As 't were between the dewfall and the dawn
Bears it away. Who other was to blame?
Is it I? Is it I?--No verily, not I,
'T was a good action, and I smart therefore;
Oblivion of a righteous enmity
Wrought me this wrong. I pay with my self ruth
That I had ruth toward mine enemy;
It needed not to slay mine enemy,
Only to let him lie and succourless
Drift to the foot o' the Everlasting Throne;
Being mine enemy, he had not accused
One of my nation there of unkind deeds
Or ought the way of war forbids.
Let be!
I will not think upon it. Yet she was--
O, she was dear; my dutiful, dear child.
One soweth--Nay, but I will tell this out,
The first fyte was the best, I call it such
For now as some old song men think on it.