#English #Victorians #Women
Live all thy sweet life through, Sweet Rose, dew—sprent, Drop down thine evening dew To gather it anew When day is bright:
Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling… The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind?
Go from me, summer friends, and ta… I am no summer friend, but wintry… A silly sheep benighted from the f… A sluggard with a thorn—choked gar… Take counsel, sever from my lot yo…
Hope new born one pleasant morn Died at even; Hope dead lives nevermore. No, not in heaven. If his shroud were but a cloud
Contemptuous of his home beyond The village and the village—pond, A large—souled Frog who spurned e… Hopped along the imperial highway. Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
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…
Your brother has a falcon, Your sister has a flower; But what is left for mannikin, Born within a hour? I’ll nurse you on my knee, my knee…
None other Lamb, none other Name, None other hope in Heav’n or eart… None other hiding place from guilt… None beside Thee! My faith burns low, my hope burns…
‘Ferry me across the water, Do, boatman, do.’ ‘If you’ve a penny in your purse I’ll ferry you.’ ‘I have a penny in my purse,
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
I said of laughter: it is vain. Of mirth I said: what profits it? Therefore I found a book, and wri… Therein how ease and also pain, How health and sickness, every one
I wish I could remember the first… First hour, first moment of your m… If bright or dim the season, it mi… Summer or winter for aught I can… So unrecorded did it slip away,
A city plum is not a plum; A dumb—bell is no bell, though dum… A party rat is not a rat; A sailor’s cat is not a cat; A soldier’s frog is not a frog;
When a mounting skylark sings In the sunlit summer morn, I know that heaven is up on high, And on earth are fields of corn. But when a nightingale sings
Twist me a crown of wind—flowers; That I may fly away To hear the singers at their song, And players at their play. Put on your crown of wind—flowers:
