Country roads are yellow and brown… We mend the roads in London town. Never a hansom dare come nigh, Never a cart goes rolling by. An unwonted silence steals

None ever was in love with me but… She wooed my from the day that I… She stole my playthings first, the… And left me there forlorn. The birds that in my garden would…

Through the sunny garden The humming bees are still; The fir climbs the heather, The heather climbs the hill. The low clouds have riven

We are not near enough to love, I can but pity all your woe; For wealth has lifted me above, And falsehood set you down below. If you were true, we still might b…

On alien ground, breathing an alie… A Roman stood, far from his ancie… And gazing, murmured, ‘Ah, the hills are fair,
But not… Descendant of a race to Romans-ki…

BLUE is Our Lady’s colour, White is Our Lord’s. To-morrow I will wear a knot Of blue and white cords, That you may see it, where you rid…

Grant me but a day, love, But a day, Ere I give my heart, My heart away, Ere I say the word

When wintry winds are no more hear… And joy’s in every bosom, When summer sings in every bird, And shines in every blossom, When happy twilight hours are long…

WE never said farewell, nor even… Our last upon each other, for no s… Was made when we the linkèd chain… And broke the level line. And here we dwell together, side b…

MOTHER of God! no lady thou: Common woman of common earth Our Lady ladies call thee now, But Christ was never of gentle bi… A common man of the common earth.

I HAVE walked a great while over… And I am not tall nor strong. My clothes are wet, and my teeth a… And the way was hard and long. I have wandered over the fruitful…

Oh, a gallant set were they, As they charged on us that day, A thousand riding like one! Their trumpets crying, And their white plumes flying,

There’s no smoke in the chimney, And the rain beats on the floor; There’s no glass in the window, There’s no wood in the door; The heather grows behind the house…

Some hang above the tombs, Some weep in empty rooms, I, when the iris blooms, Remember. I, when the cyclamen

TURN in, my lord, she said ; As it were the Father of Sin I have hated the Father of the De… The slayer of my kin ; By the Father of the Living led,