Child Sun Why will you play Peep Bo Now in, now out The workroom window so? True ’tis

I love to see Her looking up at me, Stretched on a bed In her pink dressing gown, Her arms above her head,

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…

Ay, ay, ay, the lilies of the gard… With red threads binding them and… These shall be her symbols, for sh… Holy in her maidenhood and very fu… Ay, ay, ay, for she is very girlis…

I know more about flowers, And Pat knows about ships. ‘Schooner’ and 'barquentine’ Are words of note on his lips. Even 'schooner, barque-rigged’

To Plato’s dictum Assent she lends. All things in common We hold, as friends. I share her riches.

I thought I heard something move… When I was alone in bed. And I was afraid . . . and I was… I lay—I quaked for dread. Then all of a sudden the rain bega…

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…

Why does she put me to many indign… Shifts to prevent myself thinking… My golden Katie, who loveth not k… I wear my new dresses and put on s… All to prevent myself thinking upo…

I can’t feel the sunshine Or see the stars aright For thinking of her beauty And her kisses bright. She would let me kiss her

My darling lies down in her soft w… And she laughs at me. Her laughter has flushed her pale… Her eyes dance with glee. My darling lies close in her warm…

I dreamt last night That spring had come. Across green fields I saw a blur Of crimson-blossomed plum. I’ve never known

Every night I hurry home to see If a letter’s there from you to me… Every night I bow my head and say… ‘There’s no word at all from him t…

Frolic mountain winds Innocent and shy, Kiss my darling’s cheek As they scurry by. Little fragrant leaves

O you, dear trees, you have learne… You must have studied this only th… Men have thought of God and laugh… And of love. And of song. But you, dear trees, from your bir…