#English #Victorians #Women #XIXCentury
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:
Roses blushing red and white, For delight; Honeysuckle wreaths above, For love; Dim sweet—scented heliotrope,
When the cows come home the milk i… Honey’s made while the bees are hu… Duck and drake on the rushy lake, And the deer live safe in the bree… And timid, funny, brisk little bun…
Minnie bakes oaten cakes, Minnie brews ale, All because her Johnny’s coming Home from sea. And she glows like a rose
Mother shake the cherry—tree, Susan catch a cherry; Oh how funny that will be, Let’s be merry! One for brother, one for sister,
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
‘Ding a ding,’ The sweet bells sing, And say: ‘Come, all be gay’ For a wedding day.
Minnie and Mattie And fat little May, Out in the country, Spending a day. Such a bright day,
Rosy maiden Winifred, With a milkpail on her head, Tripping through the corn, While the dew lies on the wheat In the sunny morn.
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
The dear old woman in the lane Is sick and sore with pains and ac… We’ll go to her this afternoon, And take her tea and eggs and cake… We’ll stop to make the kettle boil…
Why were you born when the snow wa… You should have come to the cuckoo… Or when grapes are green in the cl… Or, at least, when lithe swallows… For their far off flying
The curtains were half drawn, the… And strewn with rushes, rosemary a… Lay thick upon the bed on which I… Where through the lattice ivy—shad… He leaned above me, thinking that…
In the meadow —what in the meadow? Bluebells, buttercups, meadowsweet… And fairy rings for the children’s… In the meadow. In the garden —what in the garden?
“Too late for love, too late for j… Too late, too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch