#English #Victorians #Women #XIXCentury
My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water’d shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thickse… My heart is like a rainbow shell
A fool I was to sleep at noon, And wake when night is chilly Beneath the comfortless cold moon; A fool to pluck my rose too soon, A fool to snap my lily.
A toadstool comes up in a night, — Learn the lesson, little folk: — An oak grows on a hundred years, But then it is an oak.
Morning and evening Maids heard the goblins cry: “Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy: Apples and quinces,
Crying, my little one, footsore an… Fall asleep, pretty one, warm on m… I must tramp on through the winter… While the snow falls on me colder… You are my one, and I have not an…
The irresponsive silence of the la… The irresponsive sounding of the s… Speak both one message of one sens… Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so s… Thou too aloof bound with the flaw…
If the sun could tell us half That he hears and sees, Sometimes he would make us laugh, Sometimes make us cry: Think of all the birds that make
A baby’s cradle with no baby in it… A baby’s grave where autumn leaves… The sweet soul gathered home to P… The body waiting here.
‘Oh, sad thy lot before I came, But sadder when I go; My presence but a flash of flame, A transitory glow Between two barren wastes like sno…
Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sk… Are prettier far than these. There are bridges on the rivers,
‘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,
We met, hand to hand, We clasped hands close and fast, As close as oak and ivy stand; But it is past: Come day, come night, day comes at…
Oh the cheerful Budding—time! When thorn—hedges turn to green, When new leaves of elm and lime Cleave and shed their winter scree… Tender lambs are born and ‘baa,’
The lily has an air, And the snowdrop a grace, And the sweetpea a way, And the heartsease a face, — Yet there’s nothing like the rose
Some are laughing, some are weepin… She is sleeping, only sleeping. Round her rest wild flowers are cr… There the wind is heaping, heaping Sweetest sweets of Summer’s keepi…
