|
Ay, this is he — the statue rather battered
|
|
|
|
Now with the sound of that great knight's slow saying
|
|
|
|
We are led forth amid the mystic moan
|
|
|
|
But they depart, shy-blushing, backward-glancing
|
|
|
|
I hold my goblet up, and each scintilla
|
|
|
|
Hoc discunt omnes, ante Alpha et Beta
|
|
|
|
Strange; for it is not long since her white form
|
|
|
|
A Legend of the Divorce Court
|
|
|
|
The Swallow
|
|
|
|
A Sprig of May
|
|
|