I have a little husband And he is gone to sea, The winds that whistle round his s… Fly home to me. The winds that sigh about me
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
On the grassy banks Lambkins at their pranks; Woolly sisters, woolly brothers Jumping off their feet While their woolly mothers
Two doves upon the selfsame branch… Two lilies on a single stem, Two butterflies upon one flower:— Oh happy they who look on them. Who look upon them hand in hand
In the bleak mid—winter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Love came down at Christmas, Love all lovely, love divine; Love was born at Christmas, Star and angels gave the sign. Worship we the Godhead,
Summer is gone with all its roses, Its sun and perfumes and sweet flo… Its warm air and refreshing shower… And even Autumn closes. Yea, Autumn’s chilly self is goin…
I have a Poll parrot, And Poll is my doll, And my nurse is Polly, And my sister Poll. ‘Polly!’ cried Polly,
I took my heart in my hand (O my love, O my love), I said: Let me fall or stand, Let me live or die, But this once hear me speak—
She sat alway thro’ the long day Spinning the weary thread away; And ever said in undertone: ‘Come, that I be no more alone.’ From early dawn to set of sun
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.
A baby’s cradle with no baby in it… A baby’s grave where autumn leaves… The sweet soul gathered home to P… The body waiting here.
What is pink? a rose is pink By a fountain’s brink. What is red? a poppy’s red In its barley bed. What is blue? the sky is blue
If a pig wore a wig, What could we say? Treat him as a gentleman, And say ‘Good day.’ If his tail chanced to fail,
Oh roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime; But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time. Oh violets for the grave of youth,