Swift and sure the swallow, Slow and sure the snail: Slow and sure may miss his way, Swift and sure may fail.
I marked where lovely Venus and h… With song and dance and merry laug… Weightless, their wingless feet se… Bound from the ground and in mid a… Left far behind I heard the dolph…
January cold desolate; February all dripping wet; March wind ranges; April changes; Birds sing in tune
When a mounting skylark sings In the sunlit summer morn, I know that heaven is up on high, And on earth are fields of corn. But when a nightingale sings
All the bells were ringing And all the birds were singing, When Molly sat down crying For her broken doll: O you silly Moll!
I looked for that which is not, no… And hope deferred made my heart si… But years must pass before a hope… Is resigned utterly. I watched and waited with a steadf…
Oh, for the time gone by, when tho… Made His Yoke easy and His Burde… When my heart stirred within me at… Of Altar spread for awful Euchari… When all my hopes His promises su…
Oh the rose of keenest thorn! One hidden summer morn Under the rose I was born. I do not guess his name Who wrought my Mother’s shame,
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,
I wish you were a pleasant wren, And I your small accepted mate; How we’d look down on toilsome men… We’d rise and go to bed at eight Or it may be not quite so late.
New Year met me somewhat sad: Old Year leaves me tired, Stripped of favourite things I ha… Baulked of much desired: Yet farther on my road to—day
I wish I could remember that firs… First hour, first moment of your m… If bright or dim the season, it mi… Summer or Winter for aught I can… So unrecorded did it slip away,
The year stood at its equinox And bluff the North was blowing, A bleat of lambs came from the flo… Green hardy things were growing; I met a maid with shining locks
The hope I dreamed of was a dream… Was but a dream; and now I wake, Exceeding comfortless, and worn, a… For a dream’s sake. I hang my harp upon a tree,
“Too late for love, too late for j… Too late, too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch