Playing at bob cherry Tom and Nell and Hugh: Cherry bob! cherry bob! There’s a bob for you. Tom bobs a cherry
Why were you born when the snow wa… You should have come to the cuckoo… Or when grapes are green in the cl… Or, at least, when lithe swallows… For their far off flying
Vanity of vanities, the Preacher… All things are vanity. The eye an… Cannot be filled with what they se… Like early dew, or like the sudden… Of wind, or like the grass that wi…
I love and love not: Lord, it bre… To love and not to love. Thou veiled within Thy glory, gon… Into Thy shrine, which is above, Dost Thou not love me, Lord, or c…
Twist me a crown of wind—flowers; That I may fly away To hear the singers at their song, And players at their play. Put on your crown of wind—flowers:
If he would come to—day, to—day, t… O, what a day to—day would be! But now he’s away, miles and miles… From me across the sea. O little bird, flying, flying, fly…
SAFE where I cannot die yet, Safe where I hope to lie too, Safe from the fume and the fret; You, and you, Whom I never forget.
She stands as pale as Parian stat… Like Cleopatra when she turned at… And felt her strength above the R… And felt the aspic writhing in her… Her face is steadfast toward the s…
In the bleak midwinter, frosty win… Earth stood hard as iron, water li… Snow had fallen, snow on snow, sno… In the bleak midwinter, long ago. Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him,…
I said of laughter: it is vain. Of mirth I said: what profits it? Therefore I found a book, and wri… Therein how ease and also pain, How health and sickness, every one
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…
Hope is like a harebell trembling… Love is like a rose the joy of all… Faith is like a lily lifted high a… Love is like a lovely rose the wor… Harebells and sweet lilies show a…
I have but one rose in the world, And my one rose stands a—drooping: Oh, when my single rose is dead There’ll be but thorns for stoopin…
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…
DOES the road wind uphill all th… Yes, to the very end. Will the day’s journey take the wh… From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resti…