Golden—winged, silver—winged, Winged with flashing flame, Such a flight of birds I saw, Birds without a name: Singing songs in their own tongue
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.
Bread and milk for breakfast, And woollen frocks to wear, And a crumb for robin redbreast On the cold days of the year.
I wonder if the sap is stirring ye… If wintry birds are dreaming of a… If frozen snowdrops feel as yet th… And crocus fires are kindling one… Sing, robin, sing;
Blind from my birth, Where flowers are springing I sit on earth All dark. Hark! hark!
If I were a Queen, What would I do? I’d make you King, And I’d wait on you. If I were a King,
Why were you born when the snow wa… You should have come to the cuckoo… Or when grapes are green in the cl… Or, at least, when lithe swallows… For their far off flying
Somewhere or other there must sure… The face not seen, the voice not h… The heart that not yet—never yet—a… Made answer to my word. Somewhere or other, may be near or…
If hope grew on a bush, And joy grew on a tree, What a nosegay for the plucking There would be! But oh! in windy autumn,
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…
The first was like a dream through… The second like a tedious numbing… While the half—frozen pulses lagge… Beneath a winter moon. ‘But,’ says my friend, ‘what was t…
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.
‘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,
Wee wee husband, Give me some money, I have no comfits, And I have no honey. Wee wee wifie,
January cold desolate; February all dripping wet; March wind ranges; April changes; Birds sing in tune
