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

“When I Was One-And-TwentyWhen I was one-and-twenty I heard a wise man say,“Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away;Give pearls away and rubies But keep your fancy free.”But I was one-and-twenty, No use to talk to me.When I was one-and-twenty I heard him say again,“The heart out of the bosom Was never given in vain;’Tis paid with sighs a plenty And sold for endless rue.”And I am two-and-twenty, And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.”

“Who made the world I cannot tell;'Tis made, and here I am in hell.”

“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 Laws Of God, The Laws Of ManThe laws of God, the laws of man,He may keep that will and can;Now I: let God and man decree Laws for themselves and not for me;And if my ways are not as theirsLet them mind their own affairs. Their deeds I judge and much condemn,Yet when did I make laws for them?Please yourselves, say I, and theyNeed only look the other way.But no, they will not; they must stillWrest their neighbour to their will,And make me dance as they desireWith jail and gallows and hell-fire.And how am I to face the oddsOf man’s bedevilment and God’s?I, a stranger and afraidIn a world I never made.They will be master, right or wrong;Though both are foolish, both are strong, And since, my soul, we cannot fly To Saturn or Mercury,Keep we must, if keep we can,These foreign laws of God and man.”

“You smile upon your friend to-day,To-day his ills are over;You hearken to the lover's say,And happy is the lover.'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never:I shall have lived a little whileBefore I die for ever.”

“VIII'Farewell to barn and stack and tree,Farewell to Severn shore.Terence, look your last at me,For I come home no more.'The sun burns on the half-mown hill,By now the blood is dried;And Maurice amongst the hay lies stillAnd my knife is in his side.'My mother thinks us long away;'Tis time the field were mown.She had two sons at rising day,To-night she'll be alone.'And here's a bloody hand to shake,And oh, man, here's good-bye;We'll sweat no more on scythe and rake,My blood hands and I.'I wish you strength to bring you pride,And a love to keep you clean,And I wish you luck, come Lammastide,At racing on the green.'Long for me the rick will wait,And long will wait the fold,And long will stand the empty plate,And dinner will be cold.'IXOn moonlit heath and lonesome bankThe sheep beside me graze;And yon the gallows used to clankFast by the four cross ways.A careless shepherd once would keepThe flocks by moonlight there,And high amongst the glimmering sheepThe dead man stood on air.They hang us now in Shrewsbury jail:The whistles blow forlorn.And trains all night groan on the railTo men that die at morn.There sleeps in Shrewsbury jail to-night,Or wakes, as may betide,A better lad, if things went right,Than most that sleep outside.And naked to the hangman's nooseThe morning clocks will ringA neck God made for other useThan strangling in a string.And sharp the link of life will snap,And dead on air will standHeels that held up as straight a chapAs treads upon the land.So here I'll watch the night and waitTo see the morning shine,When he will hear the stroke of eightAnd not the stroke of nine;And wish my friend as sound a sleepAs lads' I did not know,That shepherded the moonlit sheepA hundred years ago.”