He who died at Azan sends
This to comfort all his friends:

Faithful friends! It lies, I know,
Pale and white and cold as snow:
And ye say, " Abdallah's dead! "
Weeping at the feet and head.
I can see your falling tears,
I can hear your sighs and prayers;
Yet I smile and whisper this:
" I am not the thing you kiss;
Cease your tears, and let it lie;
It was mine — it is not I. "

Sweet friends! what the women lave
For its last bed of the grave,
Is a tent which I am quitting,
Is a garment no more fitting,

He who could win the girl I love
would win a grove of light,
with her silken, starry hair
in golden columns from her head,
dragon fire lighting up a door,
three chains like the Milky Way.
She sets alight in one bush
a roof of hair like a bonfire.
Yellow broom or a great birch tree
is this gold-topped girl of Maelor.
A host coloured like angels,
her armour's many-branched,
a peacock-feather pennon,
a tall bush like the golden door,
all this lively looking hair
virtued like the sun, fetter of girls.

In Obitum Ben: Jhonslon!

He who began from brick and lime
The Muses Hill to clime
And whilom busied in laying ston
Thirsted to drink of Helicon
Changing his trowell for a pen
Wrote strayt the temper not of dirt, but men.

Now Sithence that He is turned to clay and gon
Let those remaine of th'occupation
He honeurd once, square him a toombe may say

He whistled soft whistlings I knew were for me,
Teasing, endearing.
Won't you look? was what they said,
But I did not turn my head.
(Only a little I turned my hearing.)

My feet took me by;
Straight and evenly they went:
As if they had not dreamed what he meant:
As if such a curiosity
Never was known since the world began
As woman wanting man!

My heart led me past and took me away;
And yet it was my heart that wanted to stay.

Did I ever imagine
I would make this pass again
in my old age?
Such is life!
Sayononaka Mountain.

He watched the spring come like a gentle maid,
Suffused with blushes at her lover's call,
Her radiant figure swaying, slim and tall,
Her white arms decked with carven gold and jade;
And in her steps new grass with tender blade
Sprang up, and flowers whose faces sweet and small
Wove patterns like a rare old Persian shawl,
And carpets for the wanton summer laid,
Where she with dancing feet and passionate
Warm breasts lured autumn, purple robed and red,
Who brought blue swallows, yellow butterflies,
Calm streams, clear stars and death inviolate;

[ On the night of the marraige of the foregoin' couple, which shall be nameless here, these lines was ca'mly dashed off in the albun of the happy bride whilse the shivver-ree was goin' on outside the residence .]
HE was warned against the womern —
She was warned aginst the man . —
And ef that won't make a weddin',
W'y, they's nothin' else that can!

He was the slave of Ambition
And he vowed to the Gods above
To sell his soul to perdition
For Fortune, Fame, and Love.
"Three Wishes," he cried,
And the Devil replied:
"Fortune is a fickle one,
Often wooed but seldom won,
Ever changing like the sun;
Still, I think it can be done.
You have a friend, a rich one too;
Kill him! His wealth is willed to you."
Ambition fled. He paused awhile,
But, daunted by the Devil's smile,
He killed his friend to gain his aim,
Then bowed his head in grief and shame;

He was lodging above in Coom,
And he'd the half of the bailiff's room.

Till a black night came in Coomasaharn
A night of rains you'd swamp a star in.

" To-night, " says he, " with the devil's weather
The hares itself will quit the heather.

I'll catch my boys with a latch on the door,
And serve my process on near a score. "

The night was black at the fording place,
And the flood was up in a whitened race,
But devil a bit he'd turn his face.

Then the peelers said, " Now mind your lepping,

He was in love with Truth and knew her near —
Her comrade, not her suppliant on the knee:
She gave him wild melodious words to be
Made music that should haunt the atmosphere.
She drew him to her bosom, day — long dear,
And pointed to the stars and to the sea,
And taught him miracles and mystery,
And made him master of the rounded year.
Yet one gift did she keep. He looked in vain,
Brow-shaded, through the darkness of the mist,
Marking a beauty like a wandering breath
That beckoned, yet denied his soul a tryst: