I nursed it in my bosom while it l… I hid it in my heart when it was d… In joy I sat alone, even so I gri… Alone and nothing said. I shut the door to face the naked…
I was a cottage maiden Hardened by sun and air Contented with my cottage mates, Not mindful I was fair. Why did a great lord find me out,
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…
Your brother has a falcon, Your sister has a flower; But what is left for mannikin, Born within a hour? I’ll nurse you on my knee, my knee…
The rose with such a bonny blush, What has the rose to blush about? If it’s the sun that makes her flu… What’s in the sun to flush about?
Consider The lilies of the field whose bloo… We are as they; Like them we fade away, As doth a leaf.
If stars dropped out of heaven, And if flowers took their place, The sky would still look very fair… And fair earth’s face. Winged angels might fly down to us
On the wind of January Down flits the snow, Travelling from the frozen North As cold as it can blow. Poor robin redbreast,
In my Autumn garden I was fain To mourn among my scattered roses; Alas for that last rosebud which u… To Autumn’s languid sun and rain When all the world is on the wane!
I would not if I could undo my pa… Tho’ for its sake my future is a b… My past, for which I have myself… For all its faults and follies fir… I would not cast anew the lot once…
I am pale with sick desire, For my heart is far away From this world’s fitful fire And this world’s waning day; In a dream it overleaps
Am I a stone, and not a sheep, That I can stand, O Christ, bene… To number drop by drop Thy Blood’… And yet not weep? Not so those women loved
Before the winter morn, Before the earliest cock crow, Jesus Christ was born: Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger,
Young Love lies sleeping In May—time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing,
Too late for love, too late for jo… Too late, too late! You loiter’d on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch