The rose with such a bonny blush, What has the rose to blush about? If it’s the sun that makes her flu… What’s in the sun to flush about?

‘While I sit at the door Sick to gaze within Mine eye weepeth sore For sorrow and sin: As a tree my sin stands

Under the ivy bush One sits sighing, And under the willow tree One sits crying: — Under the ivy bush

‘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,

My baby has a father and a mother, Rich little baby! Fatherless, motherless, I know an… Forlorn as may be: Poor little baby!

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

I wish you were a pleasant wren, And I your small accepted mate; How we’d look down on toilsome men… We’d rise and go to bed at eight Or it may be not quite so late.

I did not chide him, though I kne… That he was false to me. Chide the exhaling of the dew, The ebbing of the sea, The fading of a rosy hue,—

Motherless baby and babyless mothe… Bring them together to love one an…

I have a Poll parrot, And Poll is my doll, And my nurse is Polly, And my sister Poll. ‘Polly!’ cried Polly,

Life is not sweet. One day it wil… To shut our eyes and die: Nor feel the wild flowers blow, no… With flitting butterfly, Nor grass grow long above our head…

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