She stands as pale as Parian stat… Like Cleopatra when she turned at… And felt her strength above the R… And felt the aspic writhing in her… Her face is steadfast toward the s…
Too late for love, too late for jo… Too late, too late! You loiter’d on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch
The peach tree on the southern wal… Has basked so long beneath the sun… Her score of peaches great and sma… Bloom rosy, every one. A peach for brothers, one for each…
Playing at bob cherry Tom and Nell and Hugh: Cherry bob! cherry bob! There’s a bob for you. Tom bobs a cherry
A fool I was to sleep at noon, And wake when night is chilly Beneath the comfortless cold moon; A fool to pluck my rose too soon, A fool to snap my lily.
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…
By day she woos me, soft, exceedin… But all night as the moon so chang… Loathsome and foul with hideous le… And subtle serpents gliding in her… By day she woos me to the outer ai…
My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water’d shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thickse… My heart is like a rainbow shell
How comes it, Flora, that, whenev… Play cards together, you invariabl… However the pack parts, Still hold the Queen of Hearts? I’ve scanned you with a scrutinizi…
I sigh at day-dawn, and I sigh When the dull day is passing by. I sigh at evening, and again I sigh when night brings sleep to… Oh! it were far better to die
Once I thought to sit so high In the Palace of the sky; Now, I thank God for His Grace, If I may fill the lowest place. Once I thought to scale so soon
Wee wee husband, Give me some money, I have no comfits, And I have no honey. Wee wee wifie,
O sailor, come ashore, What have you brought for me? Red coral, white coral, Coral from the sea. I did not dig it from the ground,
Oh the rose of keenest thorn! One hidden summer morn Under the rose I was born. I do not guess his name Who wrought my Mother’s shame,
Frost—locked all the winter, Seeds, and roots, and stones of fr… What shall make their sap ascend That they may put forth shoots? Tips of tender green,