Hop–o’–my–thumb and little Jack H… What do you mean by tearing and fi… Sturdy dog Trot close round the c… I never caught him growling and bi…

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 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

Sleep, little Baby, sleep, The holy Angels love thee, And guard thy bed, and keep A blessed watch above thee. No spirit can come near

Baby cry — Oh fie! — At the physic in the cup: Gulp it twice And gulp it thrice,

Why did baby die, Making Father sigh, Mother cry? Flowers, that bloom to die, Make no reply

Vanity of vanities, the Preacher… All things are vanity. The eye an… Cannot be filled with what they se… Like early dew, or like the sudden… Of wind, or like the grass that wi…

When the cows come home the milk i… Honey’s made while the bees are hu… Duck and drake on the rushy lake, And the deer live safe in the bree… And timid, funny, brisk little bun…

Winter is cold—hearted Spring is yea and nay, Autumn is a weather—cock Blown every way: Summer days for me

Love, strong as Death, is dead. Come, let us make his bed Among the dying flowers: A green turf at his head; And a stone at his feet,

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…

Ten years ago it seemed impossible That she should ever grow so calm… With self—remembrance in her warme… And dim dried eyes like an exhaust… Slow—speaking when she had some fa…

‘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,

This Advent moon shines cold and… These Advent nights are long; Our lamps have burned year after y… And still their flame is strong. ‘Watchman, what of the night?’ we…