By day she woos me, soft, exceedin… But all night as the moon so chang… Loathsome and foul with hideous le… And subtle serpents gliding in her… By day she woos me to the outer ai…

Oh what is that country And where can it be, Not mine own country, But dearer far to me? Yet mine own country,

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…

Three plum buns To eat here at the stile In the clover meadow, For we have walked a mile. One for you, and one for me,

SAFE where I cannot die yet, Safe where I hope to lie too, Safe from the fume and the fret; You, and you, Whom I never forget.

The peacock has a score of eyes, With which he cannot see; The cod—fish has a silent sound, However that may be; No dandelions tell the time,

Angels at the foot, And Angels at the head, And like a curly little lamb My pretty babe in bed.

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…

On the grassy banks Lambkins at their pranks; Woolly sisters, woolly brothers Jumping off their feet While their woolly mothers

O happy rosebud blooming Upon thy parent tree, Nay, thou art too presuming For soon the earth entombing Thy faded charms shall be,

If he would come to—day, to—day, t… O, what a day to—day would be! But now he’s away, miles and miles… From me across the sea. O little bird, flying, flying, fly…

What do the stars do Up in the sky, Higher than the wind can blow, Or the clouds can fly? Each star in its own glory