There’s a big park just close to w… Trees in a row And shaggy grass whereon the dead… And in the middle round a great la… The fair yachts sail

Those must be masts of ships the g… On through the little gap in the p… So far away that seeing almost fai… Those must be masts, the lovely ma… Stripped bare of sails.

I’d like to spend long hours at ho… With a small child to bother me. I’d take her out to see the shops And fuss about my husband’s tea. Instead of this I spend my days

Every day Miss Mary goes her roun… Through the splendid house and thr… Looking if the kitchen table’s whi… Seeing if the great big fire’s ali… Finding specks on shining pans and…

I think each year should bring Little fresh songs Like flowers in spring. That they might deck the hours For a brief while

The people have drunk the wine of… In the streets of town. They smile as they drift with hear… Uphill and down. The people have drunk the wine of…

Pink eucalyptus flowers (The flowers are out) Are scented honey sweet For bees to buzz about. Pink eucalyptus flowers

Do you remember still the little s… I mumbled on the hill at Aura, ho… I told you it was made for Katie’… When I was fresh from school and… With all the strength of girlhood?…

Sometimes I can see When I teach Half my children talk Each to each. Then I almost wish

When I go into town at half past… Great crowds of people stream acro… Hurrying, although it’s only half… They are the invisible people of t… When you go in to town about eleve…

When my lover put the sea between… And went wandering in Italy My poor silly heart miscalled his… ‘Leaving me’. Towns of Spain and Italy he staye…

I read a statement in a newspaper That Twentyman, the manufacturer, Found it was cheaper to deliver go… By horse and lorry than by motor-t… Or motor-van. So he had sold his…

There’s a little boy who lives nex… With hair like you, Pale, pale hair and a rose-white s… And his eyes are blue. When I get a chance I peep at him…

You, whom the grave cannot bind, Shall a song hold you? Still you escape from the mesh Spun to enfold you. Your woven texture of flesh

If you have loved a brave story Tell it but rarely; And, with due faith in its glory, Render it barely. Then must the listener, hearing