“Oh where are you going with your… On the west wind blowing along thi… “The downhill path is easy, come w… We shall escape the uphill by neve… So they two went together in glowi…
Oh, for the time gone by, when tho… Made His Yoke easy and His Burde… When my heart stirred within me at… Of Altar spread for awful Euchari… When all my hopes His promises su…
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…
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.
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
The sweetest blossoms die. And so it was that, going day by d… Unto the church to praise and pray… And crossing the green churchyard… I saw how on the graves the flower…
A hundred, a thousand to one; even… Not a hope in the world remained: The swarming howling wretches belo… Gained and gained and gained. Skene looked at his pale young wif…
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
O wind, where have you been, That you blow so sweet? Among the violets Which blossom at your feet. The honeysuckle waits
Our little baby fell asleep, And may not wake again For days and days, and weeks and w… But then he’ll wake again, And come with his own pretty look,
The lily has a smooth stalk, Will never hurt your hand; But the rose upon her briar Is lady of the land. There’s sweetness in an apple tree…
‘Oh whence do you come, my dear fr… With your golden hair all fallen b… And your face as white as snowdrop… And your voice as hollow as the ho… ‘From the other world I come back…
How many seconds in a minute? Sixty, and no more in it. How many minutes in an hour? Sixty for sun and shower. How many hours in a day?
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
Underneath the growing grass, Underneath the living flowers, Deeper than the sound of showers: There we shall not count the hours By the shadows as they pass.
