Pardon the faults in me, For the love of years ago: Good—bye. I must drift across the sea, I must sink into the snow,
DOES the road wind uphill all th… Yes, to the very end. Will the day’s journey take the wh… From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resti…
Winter is cold—hearted Spring is yea and nay, Autumn is a weather—cock Blown every way: Summer days for me
Jess and Jill are pretty girls, Plump and well to do, In a cloud of windy curls: Yet I know who Loves me more than curls or pearls…
“Goodbye in fear, goodbye in sorro… Goodbye, and all in vain, Never to meet again, my dear—” “Never to part again.” “Goodbye today, goodbye tomorrow,
If he would come to—day, to—day, t… O, what a day to—day would be! But now he’s away, miles and miles… From me across the sea. O little bird, flying, flying, fly…
Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sk… Are prettier far than these. There are bridges on the rivers,
The horses of the sea Rear a foaming crest, But the horses of the land Serve us the best. The horses of the land
Dancing on the hill—tops, Singing in the valleys, Laughing with the echoes, Merry little Alice. Playing games with lambkins
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…
Oh the cheerful Budding—time! When thorn—hedges turn to green, When new leaves of elm and lime Cleave and shed their winter scree… Tender lambs are born and ‘baa,’
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,
Fly away, fly away over the sea, Sun—loving swallow, for summer is… Come again, come again, come back… Bringing the summer and bringing t…
Herself a rose, who bore the Rose… She bore the Rose and felt its th… All loveliness new—born Took on her bosom its repose, And slept and woke there night and…
This Advent moon shines cold and… These Advent nights are long; Our lamps have burned year after y… And still their flame is strong. ‘Watchman, what of the night?’ we…