Rosy maiden Winifred, With a milkpail on her head, Tripping through the corn, While the dew lies on the wheat In the sunny morn.

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?

When fishes set umbrellas up If the rain—drops run, Lizards will want their parasols To shade them from the sun.

What do the stars do Up in the sky, Higher than the wind can blow, Or the clouds can fly? Each star in its own glory

Dancing on the hill—tops, Singing in the valleys, Laughing with the echoes, Merry little Alice. Playing games with lambkins

Long ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens Upon a distant hill. One was tall Megan,

Sing me a song — What shall I sing?— Three merry sisters Dancing in a ring, Light and fleet upon their feet

As eager homebound traveller to th… Or steadfast seeker on an unsearch… Or martyr panting for an aureole, My fellow—pilgrims pass me, and at… That hidden mansion of perpetual p…

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,

Oh why is heaven built so far, Oh why is earth set so remote? I cannot reach the nearest star That hangs afloat. I would not care to reach the moon…

Herself a rose, who bore the Rose… She bore the Rose and felt its th… All loveliness new—born Took on her bosom its repose, And slept and woke there night and…

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.

Growing in the vale By the uplands hilly, Growing straight and frail, Lady Daffadowndilly. In a golden crown,