Two gaz’d into a pool, he gaz’d an… Not hand in hand, yet heart in hea… Pale and reluctant on the water’s… AS on the brink of parting which… Each eyed the other’s aspect, she…
Golden—winged, silver—winged, Winged with flashing flame, Such a flight of birds I saw, Birds without a name: Singing songs in their own tongue
The lily has a smooth stalk, Will never hurt your hand; But the rose upon her briar Is lady of the land. There’s sweetness in an apple tree…
Margaret has a milking—pail, And she rises early; Thomas has a threshing—flail, And he’s up betimes. Sometimes crossing through the gra…
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…
A ring upon her finger, Walks the bride, With the bridegroom tall and hands… At her side. A veil upon her forehead
Summer is gone with all its roses, Its sun and perfumes and sweet flo… Its warm air and refreshing shower… And even Autumn closes. Yea, Autumn’s chilly self is goin…
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 will tell you when they met: In the limpid days of Spring; Elder boughs were budding yet, Oaken boughs looked wintry still, But primrose and veined violet
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing… The moonrise wakes the nightingale… Come darkness, moonrise, everythin… That is so silent, sweet, and pale… Come, so ye wake the nightingale.
Where were you last night? I watc… I went down early, I stayed down… Were you snug at home, I should l… Or were you in the coppice wheedli… She’s a fine girl, with a fine cle…
Why does the sea moan evermore? Shut out from heaven it makes its… It frets against the boundary shor… All earth’s full rivers cannot fil… The sea, that drinking thirsteth s…
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…
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…
Herself a rose, who bore the Rose… She bore the Rose and felt its th… All loveliness new—born Took on her bosom its repose, And slept and woke there night and…