#1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics #EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters
AT Backworth sung till echo rung, A bard whose feelings were, In what to young and old he sung Of little Dolly Dare. ‘Tho’ Lizzy’s sweet and Polly’s n…
UNKNIT that brow; the day too s… Departs when starry nights are nea… They’re clouded now, nor will the… Once come and try to make them cle… Be not like her, a peevish girl;—
O, MY Spirit, art thou vanquisht… Is thy latest prospect gone? Must my task be thus relinquisht Ere my noble end is won? Must I die, and be remember’d
WHAT can he ail? I hear them ask And what can make his cheek so pal… Ah, that to answer were a task For which no effort could avail, To say I love were but to say
SHE snapt her fingers, on her hee… Her sweet boot-heel, she turned an… What did I feel?—What could I fe… At what of paradise had reft me? I swooning lay; my soul away
DAME Malice reigns the Queen of… With wink and whisper, nod and cha… She trots along, and never fags, While she has scandal-seeds to sca… Then when her seeds are poison-wee…
The Violet invited my kiss. I kiss’d it and called it my bride… “Was ever one slighted like this?” Sighed the Rose as it stood by my… My heart ever open to grief,
ONE day as I came down by Jarrow… Engirt by a crowd on a stone, A woman sat moaning and sorrow Seized all who gave heed to her mo… “Nay, blame not my sad lamentation…
THE devil and the devil’s brood Around a boiling caldron hung, While in a nook in merry mood Grim Death a dainty ditty sung; For guided by a baleful star
’TIS little Robin Redbreast Was piping on the spray, ‘And pray, mamma, what shall we do To bring him up this way?’ Mamma into the pantry goes,
IN despite of the cold and the gl… To ornament summer’s bleak tomb, Blooms the snowdrop; and lo! at th… Sad Flora is thrilled with deligh… And exults in the moments to come.
center A new song to an old tune. AWAY to the pic-nic at Ryton, aw… Went off in the sunrise our younke… And many were bonny and many were…
THE stars are twinkling in the sk… As to the pit I go; I think not of the sheen on high, But of the gloom below. Not rest nor peace, but toil and s…
(The chorus is old.) AWAY to the Fair, my lad did rep… Ere day had the welkin adorned; Now day’s glidden by and night’s i… And he, he has never returned:
I’M a-weary with care, I’m a-wear… Surrounded with woes that no morta… Whil’st I gaze on the night of my… Not a star to direct my lorn soul… I’m shorn of my strength and the f…