#RhymedStanza
Hope new born one pleasant morn Died at even; Hope dead lives nevermore. No, not in heaven. If his shroud were but a cloud
Hear what the mournful linnets say… ‘We built our nest compact and war… But cruel boys came round our way And took our summerhouse by storm. ‘They crushed the eggs so neatly l…
When fishes set umbrellas up If the rain—drops run, Lizards will want their parasols To shade them from the sun.
If I might only love my God and d… But now He bids me love Him and l… Now when the bloom of all my life… The pleasant half of life has quit… My tree of hope is lopped that spr…
Playing at bob cherry Tom and Nell and Hugh: Cherry bob! cherry bob! There’s a bob for you. Tom bobs a cherry
Swift and sure the swallow, Slow and sure the snail: Slow and sure may miss his way, Swift and sure may fail.
A linnet in a gilded cage,— A linnet on a bough,— In frosty winter one might doubt Which bird is luckier now. But let the trees burst out in lea…
Oh what is that country And where can it be, Not mine own country, But dearer far to me? Yet mine own country,
I had a love in soft south land, Beloved through April far in May; He waited on my lightest breath, And never dared to say me nay. He saddened if my cheer was sad,
Life is not sweet. One day it wil… To shut our eyes and die: Nor feel the wild flowers blow, no… With flitting butterfly, Nor grass grow long above our head…
I have a Poll parrot, And Poll is my doll, And my nurse is Polly, And my sister Poll. ‘Polly!’ cried Polly,
Winter is cold—hearted Spring is yea and nay, Autumn is a weather—cock Blown every way: Summer days for me
Crying, my little one, footsore an… Fall asleep, pretty one, warm on m… I must tramp on through the winter… While the snow falls on me colder… You are my one, and I have not an…
Two gaz’d into a pool, he gaz’d an… Not hand in hand, yet heart in hea… Pale and reluctant on the water’s… AS on the brink of parting which… Each eyed the other’s aspect, she…
I cannot tell you how it was, But this I know: it came to pass Upon a bright and sunny day When May was young; ah, pleasant… As yet the poppies were not born