#English #Victorians #Women #XIXCentury
Dancing on the hill—tops, Singing in the valleys, Laughing with the echoes, Merry little Alice. Playing games with lambkins
I had a love in soft south land, Beloved through April far in May; He waited on my lightest breath, And never dared to say me nay. He saddened if my cheer was sad,
Hop–o’–my–thumb and little Jack H… What do you mean by tearing and fi… Sturdy dog Trot close round the c… I never caught him growling and bi…
Once I thought to sit so high In the Palace of the sky; Now, I thank God for His Grace, If I may fill the lowest place. Once I thought to scale so soon
One face looks out from all his ca… One selfsame figure sits or walks… We found her hidden just behind th… That mirror gave back all her love… A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
I would not if I could undo my pa… Tho’ for its sake my future is a b… My past, for which I have myself… For all its faults and follies fir… I would not cast anew the lot once…
‘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,
A motherless soft lambkin Along upon a hill; No mother’s fleece to shelter him And wrap him from the cold: — I’ll run to him and comfort him,
“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,
Chide not; let me breathe a little… For I shall not mourn him long; Though the life—cord was so brittl… The love—cord was very strong. I would wake a little space
Motherless baby and babyless mothe… Bring them together to love one an…
Your hands lie open in the long fr… The finger—points look through lik… Your eyes smile peace. The pastur… ‘Neath billowing skies that scatte… All round our nest, far as the eye…
When fishes set umbrellas up If the rain—drops run, Lizards will want their parasols To shade them from the sun.
The hope I dreamed of was a dream… Was but a dream; and now I wake, Exceeding comfortless, and worn, a… For a dream’s sake. I hang my harp upon a tree,
The year stood at its equinox And bluff the North was blowing, A bleat of lambs came from the flo… Green hardy things were growing; I met a maid with shining locks
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