In summer, when the grass is thick… She shows me with her pencil how a… And often she is sweet enough to c… Where I cuddle up so closely when… In winter when the corn’s asleep,…

Bartholomew is very sweet, From sandy hair to rosy feet. Bartholomew is six months old, And dearer far than pearls or gold… Bartholomew has deep blue eyes,

My lass, when God to suffer sent me, no gifts he gave, but only lent me for gold, my breath,

NATURE and he went ever hand in… Across the hills and down the lone… They captured starry shells upon t… And lay enchanted by the musing ma… So She, who loved him for his lov…

When red-nosed Winter takes the r… An icicle his walking-stick, When frost is on the woodman’s loa… And snow is falling fast and thick… Come, lusty youth and sapless eld,

O might I leave this grassy place For spreading foam about my feet! The splendid spray upon my face, The flying brine itself were sweet If I might hear on Cromer beach

THOUGH singing but the shy and… Untrod by multitudes of feet, Songs bounded by the brook and whe… I have not failed in this, The only lure my woodland note,

Adam and Eve together stood Amid the crop they both were tendi… While far away the feathery wood Of Eden in the wind was bending. And Adam, feeling in his veins

On Helen’€™s heart the day were n… But I may not adventure there: Here breast is guarded by a right, And she is true as fair. And though in happy days her eyes

Tend me my birds, and bring again The brotherhood of woodland life, So shall I wear the seasons round A friend to need, a foe to strife; Keep me my heritage of lawn,

The kind-hearted angler was sadly… His calling unhallowed of choking… He bitterly wept, for of course he… An action most strongly opposed to… His vertabra shook as he musingly…

If you passed her in your city You would call her badly dressed, But the faded homespun covers Such a heart in such a breast! True, her rosy face is freckled

Beware of those who slyly pilch In many cunning ways; Beware of little lyres that filch From undisputed bays! Beware the tumbler’s beaded brim,

This peach is pink with such a pin… As suits the peach divinely; The cunning colour rarely spread Fades to the yellow finely; But where to spy the truest pink