Your hands lie open in the long fr… The finger—points look through lik… Your eyes smile peace. The pastur… ‘Neath billowing skies that scatte… All round our nest, far as the eye…
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
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 will you give me for my pound… Full twenty shillings round. What will you give me for my shill… Twelve pence to give I’m willing. What will you give me for my penny…
‘Croak, croak, croak,’ Thus the Raven spoke, Perched on his crooked tree As hoarse as hoarse could be. Shun him and fear him,
None other Lamb, none other Name, None other hope in Heav’n or eart… None other hiding place from guilt… None beside Thee! My faith burns low, my hope burns…
Hop–o’–my–thumb and little Jack H… What do you mean by tearing and fi… Sturdy dog Trot close round the c… I never caught him growling and bi…
I wonder if the sap is stirring ye… If wintry birds are dreaming of a… If frozen snowdrops feel as yet th… And crocus fires are kindling one… Sing, robin, sing;
I had a love in soft south land, Beloved through April far in May; He waited on my lightest breath, And never dared to say me nay. He saddened if my cheer was sad,
When fishes set umbrellas up If the rain—drops run, Lizards will want their parasols To shade them from the sun.
I wish I could remember that firs… First hour, first moment of your m… If bright or dim the season, it mi… Summer or Winter for aught I can… So unrecorded did it slip away,
I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone Is numb’d too much for hopes or fe… Look right, look left, I dwell al… I lift mine eyes, but dimm’d with…
What do the stars do Up in the sky, Higher than the wind can blow, Or the clouds can fly? Each star in its own glory
The first was like a dream through… The second like a tedious numbing… While the half—frozen pulses lagge… Beneath a winter moon. ‘But,’ says my friend, ‘what was t…
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,