O Lady Moon, your horns point tow… Shine, be increased; O Lady Moon, your horns point tow… Wane, be at rest.
“Goodbye in fear, goodbye in sorro… Goodbye, and all in vain, Never to meet again, my dear—” “Never to part again.” “Goodbye today, goodbye tomorrow,
If I might only love my God and d… But now He bids me love Him and l… Now when the bloom of all my life… The pleasant half of life has quit… My tree of hope is lopped that spr…
It’s a weary life, it is, she said… Doubly blank in a woman’s lot: I wish and I wish I were a man: Or, better then any being, were no… Were nothing at all in all the wor…
As eager homebound traveller to th… Or steadfast seeker on an unsearch… Or martyr panting for an aureole, My fellow—pilgrims pass me, and at… That hidden mansion of perpetual p…
Hopping frog, hop here and be seen… I’ll not pelt you with stick or st… Your cap is laced and your coat is… Good bye, we’ll let each other alo… Plodding toad, plod here and be lo…
If hope grew on a bush, And joy grew on a tree, What a nosegay for the plucking There would be! But oh! in windy autumn,
‘Ding a ding,’ The sweet bells sing, And say: ‘Come, all be gay’ For a wedding day.
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…
There is one that has a head witho… And there’s one that has an eye wi… You may find the answer if you try… And when all is said, Half the answer hangs upon a threa…
Strike the bells wantonly, Tinkle tinkle well; Bring me wine, bring me flowers, Ring the silver bell. All my lamps burn scented oil,
I took my heart in my hand (O my love, O my love), I said: Let me fall or stand, Let me live or die, But this once hear me speak—
“Sweet, thou art pale.” “More pale to see, Christ hung upon the cruel tree And bore His Father’s wrath for m… “Sweet, thou art sad.”
I dug and dug amongst the snow, And thought the flowers would neve… I dug and dug amongst the sand, And still no green thing came to h… Melt, O snow! the warm winds blow
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