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…
I have a little husband And he is gone to sea, The winds that whistle round his s… Fly home to me. The winds that sigh about me
While roses are so red, While lilies are so white, Shall a woman exalt her face Because it gives delight? She’s not so sweet as a rose,
It’s a weary life, it is, she said… Doubly blank in a woman’s lot: I wish and I wish I were a man: Or, better then any being, were no… Were nothing at all in all the wor…
Strike the bells wantonly, Tinkle tinkle well; Bring me wine, bring me flowers, Ring the silver bell. All my lamps burn scented oil,
The days are clear, Day after day, When April’s here, That leads to May, And June
Maiden May sat in her bower, In her blush rose bower in flower, Sweet of scent; Sat and dreamed away an hour, Half content, half uncontent.
O wind, where have you been, That you blow so sweet? Among the violets Which blossom at your feet. The honeysuckle waits
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…
When a mounting skylark sings In the sunlit summer morn, I know that heaven is up on high, And on earth are fields of corn. But when a nightingale sings
Two doves upon the selfsame branch… Two lilies on a single stem, Two butterflies upon one flower:— Oh happy they who look on them. Who look upon them hand in hand
Oh what is that country And where can it be, Not mine own country, But dearer far to me? Yet mine own country,
A cold wind stirs the blackthorn To burgeon and to blow, Besprinkling half—green hedges With flakes and sprays of snow. Through coldness and through keenn…
Once in a dream (for once I dream… We stood together in an open field… Above our heads two swift—winged p… Sporting at ease and courting full… When loftier still a broadening da…
The rose that blushes rosy red, She must hang her head; The lily that blows spotless white… She may stand upright.