Margaret has a milking—pail, And she rises early; Thomas has a threshing—flail, And he’s up betimes. Sometimes crossing through the gra…

Growing in the vale By the uplands hilly, Growing straight and frail, Lady Daffadowndilly. In a golden crown,

New Year met me somewhat sad: Old Year leaves me tired, Stripped of favourite things I ha… Baulked of much desired: Yet farther on my road to—day

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

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…

I will tell you when they met: In the limpid days of Spring; Elder boughs were budding yet, Oaken boughs looked wintry still, But primrose and veined violet

Unmindful of the roses, Unmindful of the thorn, A reaper tired reposes Among his gathered corn: So might I, till the morn!

‘A cup for hope!’ she said, In springtime ere the bloom was ol… The crimson wine was poor and cold By her mouth’s richer red. ‘A cup for love!’ how low,

The horses of the sea Rear a foaming crest, But the horses of the land Serve us the best. The horses of the land

The splendour of the kindling day, The splendor of the setting sun, These move my soul to wend its way… And have done With all we grasp and toil amongst…

Minnie and Mattie And fat little May, Out in the country, Spending a day. Such a bright day,

On the wind of January Down flits the snow, Travelling from the frozen North As cold as it can blow. Poor robin redbreast,

She sat alway thro’ the long day Spinning the weary thread away; And ever said in undertone: ‘Come, that I be no more alone.’ From early dawn to set of sun

It is over. What is over? Nay, now much is over truly!— Harvest days we toiled to sow for; Now the sheaves are gathered newly… Now the wheat is garnered duly.

Flowers preach to us if we will he… The rose saith in the dewy morn: I am most fair; Yet all my loveliness is born Upon a thorn.