Golden—winged, silver—winged, Winged with flashing flame, Such a flight of birds I saw, Birds without a name: Singing songs in their own tongue
She sat and sang alway By the green margin of a stream, Watching the fishes leap and play Beneath the glad sunbeam. I sat and wept alway
If I might only love my God and d… But now He bids me love Him and l… Now when the bloom of all my life… The pleasant half of life has quit… My tree of hope is lopped that spr…
A song in a cornfield Where corn begins to fall, Where reapers are reaping, Reaping one, reaping all. Sing pretty Lettice,
I planted a hand And there came up a palm, I planted a heart And there came up balm. Then I planted a wish,
‘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…
When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much—frequented house: I passed the door, and saw my frie… Feasting beneath green orange boug… From hand to hand they pushed the…
Why were you born when the snow wa… You should have come to the cuckoo… Or when grapes are green in the cl… Or, at least, when lithe swallows… For their far off flying
Once in a dream (for once I dream… We stood together in an open field… Above our heads two swift—winged p… Sporting at ease and courting full… When loftier still a broadening da…
The city mouse lives in a house; — The garden mouse lives in a bower, He’s friendly with the frogs and t… And sees the pretty plants in flow… The city mouse eats bread and chee…
I bore with thee long weary days a… Through many pangs of heart, throu… I bore with thee, thy hardness, co… For three and thirty years. Who else had dared for thee what…
The sweetest blossoms die. And so it was that, going day by d… Unto the church to praise and pray… And crossing the green churchyard… I saw how on the graves the flower…
Swift and sure the swallow, Slow and sure the snail: Slow and sure may miss his way, Swift and sure may fail.
Young Love lies sleeping In May—time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing,
The splendour of the kindling day, The splendor of the setting sun, These move my soul to wend its way… And have done With all we grasp and toil amongst…