“Chief of our aunts”—not only I, But all your dozen of nurselings c… “What did the other children do? And what were childhood, wanting y…

THE air was full of sun and birds… The fresh air sparkled clearly. Remembrance wakened in my heart And I knew I loved her dearly. The fallows and the leafless trees

Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s Ch… Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for t… Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum!

FAIR Isle at Sea —thy lovely na… Soft in my ear like music came. That sea I loved, and once or twi… I touched at isles of Paradise.

The embers of the day are red Beyond the murky hill. The kitchen smokes: the bed In the darkling house is spread: The great sky darkens overhead,

The Lord Himsel’ in former days Waled out the proper tunes for pra… An’ named the proper kind o’ claes For folk to preach in: Preceese and in the chief o’ ways

A naked house, a naked moor, A shivering pool before the door, A garden bare of flowers and fruit And poplars at the garden foot; Such is the place that I live in,

WITH caws and chirrupings, the w… In this thin sun rejoice. The Psalm seems but the little ki… That sings with its own voice. The cloud—rifts share their amber…

YOU looked so tempting in the pew… You looked so sly and calm — My trembling fingers played with y… As both looked out the Psalm. Your heart beat hard against my ar…

How do you like to go up in a swin… Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest… Ever a child can do! Up in the air and over the wall,

MINE eyes were swift to know the… As swift to love. I did become at… Thine wholly, thine unalterably, t… In honourable service, pure intent… Steadfast excess of love and laugh…

Last, to the chamber where I lie My fearful footsteps patter nigh, And come out from the cold and glo… Into my warm and cheerful room. There, safe arrived, we turn about

Resign the rhapsody, the dream, To men of larger reach; Be ours the quest of a plain theme… The piety of speech. As monkish scribes from morning br…

Youth now flees on feathered foot. Faint and fainter sounds the flute… Rarer songs of gods; and still Somewhere on the sunny hill, Or along the winding stream,

AWAY with funeral music– set The pipe to powerful lips— The cup of life’s for him that dri… And not for him that sips.