#English #Victorians #Women
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
Crying, my little one, footsore an… Fall asleep, pretty one, warm on m… I must tramp on through the winter… While the snow falls on me colder… You are my one, and I have not an…
The dog lies in his kennel, And Puss purrs on the rug, And baby perches on my knee For me to love and hug. Pat the dog and stroke the cat,
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,
‘While I sit at the door Sick to gaze within Mine eye weepeth sore For sorrow and sin: As a tree my sin stands
Winter is cold—hearted Spring is yea and nay, Autumn is a weather—cock Blown every way: Summer days for me
I cannot tell you how it was, But this I know: it came to pass Upon a bright and sunny day When May was young; ah, pleasant… As yet the poppies were not born
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…
My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water’d shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thickse… My heart is like a rainbow shell
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 but one May in the year, And sometimes May is wet and cold… There is but one May in the year Before the year grows old. Yet though it be the chilliest Ma…
‘Now did you mark a falcon, Sister dear, sister dear, Flying toward my window In the morning cool and clear? With jingling bells about her neck…
Heartsease in my garden bed, With sweetwilliam white and red, Honeysuckle on my wall: — Heartsease blossoms in my heart When sweet William comes to call,
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
Rosy maiden Winifred, With a milkpail on her head, Tripping through the corn, While the dew lies on the wheat In the sunny morn.