#1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics #EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters
The butterfly from flower to flowe… The urchin chas’d; and, when at la… He caught it in my lady’s bower, He cried, “Ha, ha!” and held it f… Awhile he laugh’d, but soon he wep…
AT Backworth sung till echo rung, A bard whose feelings were, In what to young and old he sung Of little Dolly Dare. ‘Tho’ Lizzy’s sweet and Polly’s n…
My heart is away with the lad of… And never can I to another be tie… Not, not to be titled a lord’s wed… Could Jinny abandon the lad of Be… He dances so clever, he whistles s…
DECK’D in a many gems of morn, A daffodil without a peer, I reared my head, and treat with s… A one-pearl-gifted daisy near. That very hour, lo! wind-a-rock’d
LET England beware, ere for war… She incur not the mark of the beas… That she march not her power the… Of the blood-imbued wolf of the E… It might be her gain that State t…
My lad he is a Collier Lad, And a blithe, blithe soul is he, And when a holiday comes around, He’ll spend that day in glee; He’ll tell his tale o’er a pint o’…
WAS ever wretch in such a plight? I scramble on I know not whither! The witches are abroad to-night; Some wicked one has led me hither! ‘That’s just like you, you’ll have…
‘SWEET Billy Taylor went to sea… Bravo, my metre ballad-monger! ‘With silver buckles on his knee!’ Another stave—a little longer! ‘When he comes back he’ll marry me…
THERE’S not a may in Ellerton By half so sweet to look upon; In all the country round there’s n… So sweet as Dora Dee. The blood-red rose to passer by,
THE sun is in the western sky And thro’ the barley, she— Comes she, the apple of my eye, The rose-cheeked Rosa Rea. Away I slink the maid to meet,
IT sounded in castle and palace, It sounded in cottage and shed, It sped over mountains and valleys… And withered the earth as it sped Like a blast in its fell consummat…
HER harp she takes, from string t… Her little snowy fingers, glancing… Into Night’s ear a wild spell fli… And all the while my heart is danc… Why thus, fond heart, thus dancest…
CAN this be her? Her dark eyes… Two planets in the midnight heaven… Her cheeks the blood-dyed rose—her… The snow upon the mountains driven… Her tongue’s a silver bell to hear…
AWAY to the well lilted Annie; Away with her skiel to the well; Away to the well whistled Johnnie… The pride and delight of the dell. Sweet, sweet is the well; but ah,…
I LIKE the darling critics’lik… O, how upon their work I linger, When they their weapons use to str… Not me, but some less happy singer… The treasure of their venom-bags