Poems by Alfred Austin

I She wanders in the April woods,
That glisten with the fallen shower;
She leans her face ag...

I I leaned upon the rustic bridge,
And watched the streamlet make
Its chattering way past zig...

I In the ages of Faith, before the day
When men were too proud to weep or pray,
There stood ...

In the streets of Constance was heard the shout,
"Masters! Bring the arch-heretic out!"
The st...

I KACELVEVO'S slope still felt
The cannon's bolt and the rifles' pelt;
For a last redoubt up ...

In the green darkness of a summer wood,
Wherethro' ran winding ways, a lady stood,
Carved fr...