A London Plane-Tree, and Other Verse

3. Wordsworth’s Grave, and Other Poems. By WILLIAM WATSON.

4. Sakuntalā; or, The Fatal Ring. By KĀLIDĀSA. Translated by Sir WILLIAM JONES. Introduction by Prof. RHYS DAVIDS.

The proofs of this volume were corrected by the Author about a week before her death.

Mine is an urban Muse, and bound By some strange law to paven ground. AUSTIN DOBSON.

To Clementina Black.

More blest than was of old Diogenes, I have not held my lantern up in vain. Not mine, at least, this evil--to complain: “There is none honest among all of these.”

Our hopes go down that sailed before the breeze; Our creeds upon the rock are rent in twain; Something it is, if at the last remain One floating spar cast up by hungry seas.

The secret of our being, who can tell? To praise the gods and Fate is not my part; Evil I see, and pain; within my heart There is no voice that whispers: “All is well.”

Yet fair are days in summer; and more fair The growths of human goodness here and there.

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