I hunger and I have no bread. My gourd is empty of the wine. Surely the footsteps of the dead Are shuffling softly close to mine! It darkens. I have lost the ford. There is a change on all things made. The rocks have evil faces, Lord, And I am awfully afraid. Remember me! the Voids of Hell Expand enormous all around. Strong friend of souls, Emmanuel, Redeem me from accursed ground. The long descent of wasted days, To these at last have led me down; Remember that I filled with praise The meaningless and doubtful ways That lead to an eternal town. I challenged and I kept the Faith, The bleeding path alone I trod; It darkens. Stand about my wraith, And harbour me--almighty God! SONG INVITING THE INFLUENCE OF A YOUNG LADY UPON THE OPENING YEAR I You wear the morning like your dress And are with mastery crowned; Whenas you walk your loveliness Goes shining all around. Upon your secret, smiling way Such new contents were found, The Dancing Loves made holiday On that delightful ground. II Then summon April forth, and send Commandment through the flowers; About our woods your grace extend A queen of careless hours. For oh, not Vera veiled in rain, Nor Dian’s sacred Ring, With all her royal nymphs in train Could so lead on the Spring. THE RING When I was flying before the King In the wood of Valognes in my hiding, Although I had not anything I sent a woman a golden ring. A Ring of the Moors beyond Leon With emerald and with diamond stone, And a writing no man ever had known, And an opal standing all alone. The shape of the ring the heart to bind: The emerald turns from cold to kind: The writing makes her sure to find:-- But the evil opal changed her mind. Now when the King was dead, was he, I came back hurriedly over the sea From the long rocks in Normandy To Bosham that is by Selsey. And we clipt each other knee to knee. But what I had was lost to me. CUCKOO! In woods so long time bare. Cuckoo! Up and in the wood, I know not where Two notes fall. Yet I do not envy him at all His phantasy. Cuckoo! I too, Somewhere, I have sung as merrily as he Who can dare, Small and careless lover, so to laugh at care, And who Can call Cuckoo! In woods of winter weary, In scented woods, of winter weary, call Cuckoo! In woods so long time bare. THE MIRROR The mirror held your Fair, my Fair, A fickle moment’s space; You looked into mine eyes and there For ever fixed your face. Keep rather to your Looking Glass Than my more faithful eyes. It told the truth. Alas! my lass! My constant memory lies. THE LITTLE SERVING MAID I