#English
Set my hands upon the plough. My feet upon the sod ; Turn my face towards the east, And praise be to God! Every year the rains do fall,
The road that leads to Ledbury Oh! it be such a pretty way. As far as Wales you’ll likely see… Suppose the month be May. The little birds they sing and sin…
What so dead as my love for you, What so terribly dead! Lay it low ‘neath the grass and de… Bury it deep in an earthy bed, Then put a tombstone over its head
Sunlight and shade, Moorland and glade, Evening and day, Winter and May, Troubadour breeze,
Oh! hadst thou kindly arms that co… While yet I live, sweet Earth, co… Unto thy bosom, thou, my fruitful… Oh! hadst thou human lips for soft… To meet mine own in some pure kiss…
I weave my verses of smiles and te… Gathered and shed for you, I bind them up in the hopes of yea… Dear, will you read them through? I write my ballads of joy and pain…
The noontide showers have drifted… The sunset’s on the hill, The lights be gleaming through the… Adown by Clincher’s Mill. It’s such a pretty evening, maid.
Our little love is newly born, And shall I say good-bye? For if I go, perchance ere dawn Our little love will die! I’d better stay and help it grow,
Schwartz Wald The heat of the mid-day has smitte… The mountains are closing their ey… The boulders stand stark, where th… For Earth in her passion is wholl…
The sun has set; Beloved see that… Wan with desire, pale in the after… Above the hill top hanging very lo… As though she stooped from her hig… To kiss this earth, because she lo…
It is the dawn, that wondrous fate… Of strange desires, of thoughts an… Within the womb of possibihty. A wind new-wakened combs the silke… Lifting the foam hke some unearthl…
Oh! the long green lanes of Engla… They be very far away, And it’s there that I’d be walkin… ‘Mid the hawthorn and the may. Where the trees are all in blossom…
I RODE through Eastnor woods to… And all the air did promise May, Did promise May till every tree Found voice to make much melody. And oh, the primi-ose flowers! the…
I BE hopin’ you remember, Now the Spring has come again, How we used to gather violets By the Uttle church at Eastnor, For we were so happy then!
Come with me, sweetheart, into It… And press the burning goblet of th… To those cold northern lips, until… Relents beneath its draft of ecsta… Drink in the sun, made liquid in t…