Song. Metempsychosis.

When Grief comes this way by
With her wan lip and drooping eye,
Bid her welcome, woo her boldly;
Soon she'll look on thee less coldly.

Her tears soon cease to flow.
'Tis now not Grief but Joy we know;
From her smiling face the roses
Tell the glad metempsychosis.

Thomas Runciman

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Thomas Runciman

Sonnet.

Thomas Runciman, Simple Poetry

Sonnet.

Thomas Runciman, Simple Poetry

A Hamadryad Dies. Sonnet

Thomas Runciman, Simple Poetry

Song.

Thomas Runciman, Simple Poetry

English

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                Once as the aureole
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A Song Before Grief.

Sorrow, my friend,
When shall you come again?
The wind is slow, and the bent willows send
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'Tis not when we look on the dreamless dead,
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I heard a gentle maiden, in the spring,
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