Why does the sea moan evermore? Shut out from heaven it makes its… It frets against the boundary shor… All earth’s full rivers cannot fil… The sea, that drinking thirsteth s…
Dead in the cold, a song—singing t… Dead at the foot of a snowberry bu… Weave him a coffin of rush, Dig him a grave where the soft mos… Raise him a tombstone of snow.
If the moon came from heaven, Talking all the way, What could she have to tell us, And what could she say? ‘I’ve seen a hundred pretty things…
‘Oh, sad thy lot before I came, But sadder when I go; My presence but a flash of flame, A transitory glow Between two barren wastes like sno…
Somewhere or other there must sure… The face not seen, the voice not h… The heart that not yet—never yet—a… Made answer to my word. Somewhere or other, may be near or…
The earth was green, the sky was b… I saw and heard one sunny morn, A skylark hang between the two, A singing speck above the corn; A stage below, in gay accord,
Oh, pleasant eventide! Clouds on the western side Grow grey and greyer, hiding the w… The bees and birds, their happy la… Seek their close nests and bide.
There is but one May in the year, And sometimes May is wet and cold… There is but one May in the year Before the year grows old. Yet though it be the chilliest Ma…
‘Kookoorookoo! kookoorookoo!’ Crows the cock before the morn; ‘Kikirikee! kikirikee!’ Roses in the east are born. ‘Kookoorookoo! kookoorookoo!’
I cannot tell you how it was, But this I know: it came to pass Upon a bright and sunny day When May was young; ah, pleasant… As yet the poppies were not born
I would not if I could undo my pa… Tho’ for its sake my future is a b… My past, for which I have myself… For all its faults and follies fir… I would not cast anew the lot once…
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…
I did not chide him, though I kne… That he was false to me. Chide the exhaling of the dew, The ebbing of the sea, The fading of a rosy hue,—
A ring upon her finger, Walks the bride, With the bridegroom tall and hands… At her side. A veil upon her forehead
If all were rain and never sun, No bow could span the hill; If all were sun and never rain, There’d be no rainbow still.