Τ TO TIME, THE TYRANT Ave, Imperator, senectus te salutat IME, in whose kingship is Song, What shall I bring to thee now, Weary of heart and of browNow, that the shadows are long! Not with the young and the strong Yet—let me stand in the throng; Youth, that no Combat can cow, Strength, that is stronger than Wrong, TIME! 1911. (Too hard it is to sing In these untuneful times, When only coin can ring, And no one cares for rhymes & Alas! for him who climbs In these untuneful times! His kindred clip his wing; Old age his forehead rimes: In these untuneful times!} ROSE, IN THE HEDGEROW GROWN OOSE, in the hedgerow grown, ROSE, Where the scent of the fresh sweet hay Comes up from the fields new-mown, For here was it not here, say?— Ah yes! with her bright hair blown, 1876. ROSE! G JULY (Virelai Nouveau) OOD-BYE to the Town!-good-bye! In the street the flower-girls cry; And over the roof-tops high Comes a waft like a dream of the May; And a cock-chafer came with the tray; To Buxton, the waters to try, |