The dear old woman in the lane Is sick and sore with pains and ac… We’ll go to her this afternoon, And take her tea and eggs and cake… We’ll stop to make the kettle boil…
Mavel of marvels, if I myself sha… With mine own eyes my King in His… Where the least of lambs is spotle… Where the least and last of saints… Where the dimmest head beyond a mo…
Underneath the growing grass, Underneath the living flowers, Deeper than the sound of showers: There we shall not count the hours By the shadows as they pass.
Rushes in a watery place, And reeds in a hollow; A soaring skylark in the sky, A darting swallow; And where pale blossom used to han…
Our little baby fell asleep, And may not wake again For days and days, and weeks and w… But then he’ll wake again, And come with his own pretty look,
Maiden May sat in her bower, In her blush rose bower in flower, Sweet of scent; Sat and dreamed away an hour, Half content, half uncontent.
When the cows come home the milk i… Honey’s made while the bees are hu… Duck and drake on the rushy lake, And the deer live safe in the bree… And timid, funny, brisk little bun…
The lily has a smooth stalk, Will never hurt your hand; But the rose upon her briar Is lady of the land. There’s sweetness in an apple tree…
Your brother has a falcon, Your sister has a flower; But what is left for mannikin, Born within a hour? I’ll nurse you on my knee, my knee…
Under the ivy bush One sits sighing, And under the willow tree One sits crying: — Under the ivy bush
‘I dreamt I caught a little owl And the bird was blue —’ ‘But you may hunt for ever And not find such a one.’ ‘I dreamt I set a sunflower,
‘Oh, where are you going with your… On the west wind blowing along thi… 'The downhill path is easy, come w… We shall escape the uphill by neve… So they two went together in glowi…
I never said I loved you, John: Why will you tease me day by day, And wax a weariness to think upon With always “do” and “pray”? You Know I never loved you, John…
There’s snow on the fields, And cold in the cottage, While I sit in the chimney nook Supping hot pottage. My clothes are soft and warm,
You must not call me Maggie, you… For I’m Lady of the Manor now st… And if there comes a babe, as ther… 'Twill be little lord or lady at m… Oh, but what ails you, my sailor c…