Take, dear, my little sheaf of songs,
For, old or new,
All that is good in them belongs
Only to you;
And, singing as when all was young,
They will recall
Those others, lived but left unsung –
The best of all
More verses by William Ernest Henley
- There Is A Wheel Inside My Head
- Scherzando
- Here They Trysted, And Here They Strayed
- Your Heart Has Trembled To My Tongue
- In Fisherrow