“Give me a land of boughs in leafA land of trees that stand;Where trees are fallen there is grief;I love no leafless land.”

“The half-moon westers low, my love,And the wind brings up the rain;And wide apart lie we, my love,And seas between the twain.I know not if it rains, my love, In the land where you do lie;And oh, so sound you sleep, my love,You know no more than I.”

“Loveliest of TreesLoveliest of trees, the cherry nowIs hung with bloom along the bough,And stands about the woodland rideWearing white for Eastertide.Now, of my threescore years and ten,Twenty will not come again,And take from seventy springs a score,It only leaves me fifty more.And since to look at things in bloomFifty springs are little room,About the woodlands I will goTo see the cherry hung with snow.”

“Into my heart an air that killsFrom yon far country blows:What are those blue remembered hills,What spires, what farms are those?That is the land of lost content,I see it shining plain,The happy highways where I wentAnd cannot come again.”

“The King with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning; Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air.And he that stands will die for nought, and home there's no returning. The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.”

“Here dead we lie Because we did not choose To live and shame the land From which we sprung.Life, to be sure, Is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, And we were young.”

“The tree of man was never quiet: Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.”