Bartholomew is very sweet, From sandy hair to rosy feet. Bartholomew is six months old, And dearer far than pearls or gold… Bartholomew has deep blue eyes,

With heart disposed to memory, let… Near this monarch and this minstre… Now that Dian leans so lovely fro… Illusively brought near by seeming… In yon illustrious summit sways th…

O BROTHERS, who must ache and… O’er wordy tasks in London town, How scantly Laura trips for you— A poem in a gown! How rare if Grub-street grew a la…

This peach is pink with such a pin… As suits the peach divinely; The cunning colour rarely spread Fades to the yellow finely; But where to spy the truest pink

IT hardly seems that he is dead, So strange it is that we are here Beneath this great blue shell of s… With apple-bloom and pear: It scarce seems true that we can n…

Beware of those who slyly pilch In many cunning ways; Beware of little lyres that filch From undisputed bays! Beware the tumbler’s beaded brim,

THOUGH singing but the shy and… Untrod by multitudes of feet, Songs bounded by the brook and whe… I have not failed in this, The only lure my woodland note,

My lass, when God to suffer sent me, no gifts he gave, but only lent me for gold, my breath,

In summer, when the grass is thick… She shows me with her pencil how a… And often she is sweet enough to c… Where I cuddle up so closely when… In winter when the corn’s asleep,…

When red-nosed Winter takes the r… An icicle his walking-stick, When frost is on the woodman’s loa… And snow is falling fast and thick… Come, lusty youth and sapless eld,

HERE in the country’€™s heart Where the grass is green, Life is the same sweet life As it e’€™er hath been. Trust in a God still lives,

On Helen’€™s heart the day were n… But I may not adventure there: Here breast is guarded by a right, And she is true as fair. And though in happy days her eyes

O might I leave this grassy place For spreading foam about my feet! The splendid spray upon my face, The flying brine itself were sweet If I might hear on Cromer beach

You voluble, Velvety Vehement fellows That play on your Flying and

Have you seen the golfers airy Prancing forth to their vagary, Just as frisky in their gaiters As a flock of Grecian Satyrs, Looking everything heroic,