#English #Victorians #Women #XIXCentury
I was a cottage maiden Hardened by sun and air Contented with my cottage mates, Not mindful I was fair. Why did a great lord find me out,
Hear what the mournful linnets say… ‘We built our nest compact and war… But cruel boys came round our way And took our summerhouse by storm. ‘They crushed the eggs so neatly l…
‘Oh, sad thy lot before I came, But sadder when I go; My presence but a flash of flame, A transitory glow Between two barren wastes like sno…
The peacock has a score of eyes, With which he cannot see; The cod—fish has a silent sound, However that may be; No dandelions tell the time,
The city mouse lives in a house; — The garden mouse lives in a bower, He’s friendly with the frogs and t… And sees the pretty plants in flow… The city mouse eats bread and chee…
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…
I nursed it in my bosom while it l… I hid it in my heart when it was d… In joy I sat alone, even so I gri… Alone and nothing said. I shut the door to face the naked…
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,
Margaret has a milking—pail, And she rises early; Thomas has a threshing—flail, And he’s up betimes. Sometimes crossing through the gra…
In the bleak mid—winter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Is the moon tired? she looks so pa… Within her misty veil: She scales the sky from east to we… And takes no rest. Before the coming of the night
She gave up beauty in her tender y… Gave all her hope and joy and plea… She covered up her eyes lest they… On vanity, and chose the bitter tr… Harsh towards herself, towards oth…
I watched a rosebud very long Brought on by dew and sun and show… Waiting to see the perfect flower: Then, when I thought it should be… It opened at the matin hour
A song in a cornfield Where corn begins to fall, Where reapers are reaping, Reaping one, reaping all. Sing pretty Lettice,
Three little children On the wide wide earth, Motherless children— Cared for from their birth By tender angels.