Long ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens Upon a distant hill. One was tall Megan,
Two days ago with dancing glancing… With living lips and eyes: Now pale, dumb, blind, she lies; So pale, yet still so fair. We have not left her yet, not yet…
Shall I forget on this side of th… I promise nothing: you must wait a… Patient and brave. (O my soul, watch with him and he… Shall I forget in peace of Paradi…
Crying, my little one, footsore an… Fall asleep, pretty one, warm on m… I must tramp on through the winter… While the snow falls on me colder… You are my one, and I have not an…
When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me
“Sweet, thou art pale.” “More pale to see, Christ hung upon the cruel tree And bore His Father’s wrath for m… “Sweet, thou art sad.”
A pocket handkerchief to hem — Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! How many stitches it will take Before it’s done, I fear. Yet set a stitch and then a stitch…
‘Oh whence do you come, my dear fr… With your golden hair all fallen b… And your face as white as snowdrop… And your voice as hollow as the ho… ‘From the other world I come back…
Come to me in the silence of the n… Come in the speaking silence of a… Come with soft rounded cheeks and… As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears,
Clever little Willie wee, Bright—eyed, blue—eyed little fell… Merry little Margery With her hair all yellow. Little Willie in his heart
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,
Oh happy happy land! Angels like rushes stand About the wells of light.'— ‘Alas, I have not eyes for this f… Hold fast my hand.’—
I am pale with sick desire, For my heart is far away From this world’s fitful fire And this world’s waning day; In a dream it overleaps
Chide not; let me breathe a little… For I shall not mourn him long; Though the life—cord was so brittl… The love—cord was very strong. I would wake a little space
‘Croak, croak, croak,’ Thus the Raven spoke, Perched on his crooked tree As hoarse as hoarse could be. Shun him and fear him,