On the grassy banks Lambkins at their pranks; Woolly sisters, woolly brothers Jumping off their feet While their woolly mothers
I will accept thy will to do and b… Thy hatred and intolerance of sin, Thy will at least to love, that bu… And thirsteth after Me: So will I render fruitful, blessi…
I sat beneath a willow tree, Where water falls and calls; While fancies upon fancies solaced… Some true, and some were false. Who set their heart upon a hope
Hope is like a harebell trembling… Love is like a rose the joy of all… Faith is like a lily lifted high a… Love is like a lovely rose the wor… Harebells and sweet lilies show a…
Mavel of marvels, if I myself sha… With mine own eyes my King in His… Where the least of lambs is spotle… Where the least and last of saints… Where the dimmest head beyond a mo…
While roses are so red, While lilies are so white, Shall a woman exalt her face Because it gives delight? She’s not so sweet as a rose,
Twist me a crown of wind—flowers; That I may fly away To hear the singers at their song, And players at their play. Put on your crown of wind—flowers:
Angels at the foot, And Angels at the head, And like a curly little lamb My pretty babe in bed.
Vanity of vanities, the Preacher… All things are vanity. The eye an… Cannot be filled with what they se… Like early dew, or like the sudden… Of wind, or like the grass that wi…
She holds a lily in her hand, Where long ranks of Angels stand, A silver lily for her wand. All her hair falls sweeping down; Her hair that is a golden brown,
The rose with such a bonny blush, What has the rose to blush about? If it’s the sun that makes her flu… What’s in the sun to flush about?
“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.”
We lack, yet cannot fix upon the l… Not this, nor that; yet somewhat,… We see the things we do not yearn… Around us: and what see we glancin… Lost hopes that leave our hearts u…
I would have gone; God bade me st… I would have worked; God bade me… He broke my will from day to day, He read my yearnings unexpressed And said them nay.
I am a King, Or an Emperor rather, I wear crown—imperial And prince’s—feather; Golden—rod is the sceptre
