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Poems

by William Ernest Henley
Henley, William Ernest (1849-1903)

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[section]
  
TO MY WIFE
  
[Ask me not how they came]
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IN HOSPITAL
  
THE SONG OF THE SWORD
  
ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS
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BRIC-A-BRAC
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ECHOES
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RHYMES AND RHYTHMS
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HAWTHORN AND LAVENDER
  
ENVOY
  
PRÆLUDIUM
 I. 
I
 II. 
II
 III. 
III
 IV. 
IV
 V. 
V
 VI. 
VI
 VII. 
VII
 VIII. 
VIII
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IX
 X. 
X
 XI. 
XI
 XII. 
XII
 XIII. 
XIII
 XIV. 
XIV
 XV. 
XV
 XVI. 
XVI
 XVII. 
XVII
 XVIII. 
XVIII
 XIX. 
XIX
 XX. 
XX
 XXI. 
XXI
 XXII. 
XXII
 XXIII. 
XXIII
 XXIV. 
XXIV
 XXV. 
XXV
 XXVI. 
XXVI
 XXVII. 
XXVII
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII
 XXIX. 
XXIX
 XXX. 
XXX
 XXXI. 
XXXI
 XXXII. 
XXXII
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV
 XXXV. 
XXXV
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX
 XL. 
XL
 XLI. 
XLI
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XLII
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XLIII
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XLIV
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XLV
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XLVI
 XLVII. 
XLVII
 XLVIII. 
XLVIII
 XLIX. 
XLIX
 L. 
L
  
FINALE
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LONDON VOLUNTARIES
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LONDON TYPES
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THREE PROLOGUES
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FOR ENGLAND'S SAKE
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EPICEDIA
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APPENDIX

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XXXIX

[These were the woods of wonder]

These were the woods of wonder
We found so close and boon,
When the bride-month in her beauty
Lay mouth to mouth with June.
181

November, the old, lean widow,
Sniffs, and snivels, and shrills,
And the bowers are all dismantled,
And the long grass wets and chills;
And I hate these dismal dawnings,
These miserable even-ends,
These orts, and rags, and heeltaps—
This dream of being merely friends.
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