A rose has thorns as well as honey… I’ll not have her for love or mone… An iris grows so straight and fine… That she shall be no friend of min… Snowdrops like the snow would chil…
Flowers preach to us if we will he… The rose saith in the dewy morn: I am most fair; Yet all my loveliness is born Upon a thorn.
Fly away, fly away over the sea, Sun—loving swallow, for summer is… Come again, come again, come back… Bringing the summer and bringing t…
“Too late for love, too late for j… Too late, too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch
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
Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sk… Are prettier far than these. There are bridges on the rivers,
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
‘A cup for hope!’ she said, In springtime ere the bloom was ol… The crimson wine was poor and cold By her mouth’s richer red. ‘A cup for love!’ how low,
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…
A pin has a head, but has no hair; A clock has a face, but no mouth t… Needles have eyes, but they cannot… A fly has a trunk without lock or… A timepiece may lose, but cannot w…
God strengthen me to bear myself; That heaviest weight of all to bea… Inalienable weight of care. All others are outside myself; I lock my door and bar them out
Oh the cheerful Budding—time! When thorn—hedges turn to green, When new leaves of elm and lime Cleave and shed their winter scree… Tender lambs are born and ‘baa,’
The splendour of the kindling day, The splendor of the setting sun, These move my soul to wend its way… And have done With all we grasp and toil amongst…
Bread and milk for breakfast, And woollen frocks to wear, And a crumb for robin redbreast On the cold days of the year.
A baby’s cradle with no baby in it… A baby’s grave where autumn leaves… The sweet soul gathered home to P… The body waiting here.