Andrew Lang

Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
No man would be a
Of whin, or burn, or bunker

RS, weary and brown, and blithe, What is the word methinks ye know, Endless over-word that the Scythe Sings to the blades of the grass below
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover, Something, still, they say as they pass; What is the word...

UL face of a child, Lighted with laughter and glee, Mirthful, and tender, and wild, My heart is heavy for thee
Beautiful face of a youth, As an eagle poised to fly forth To the old land loyal of truth, To the hills and the sounds of the North...

Apollo left the golden Muse  And shepherded a mortal's sheep,
Theocritus of Syracuse
To mock the giant swain that woo's  The sea-nymph in the sunny deep,
Apollo left the golden Muse

This morning I vowed I would bring thee my roses,
They were thrust in the band that my bodice encloses;
But the breast-knots were broken, the roses went free
The breast-knots were broken; the roses together Floated forth on the wing...

ON Calais Sands the gray began, Then rosy red above they gray; The morn with many a scarlet van Leaped, and the world was glad with May
The little waves along the bay Broke white upon the shelving strands; The sea-mews flitted white as they O...

Ah, mystic child of Beauty, nameless maid, Dateless and fatherless, how long ago,
A Greek, with some rare sadness overweighed, Shaped thee, perchance, and quite forgot his woe
Or Raphael thy sweetness did bestow,
While magical his f...