#English #Victorians #Women
Heartsease in my garden bed, With sweetwilliam white and red, Honeysuckle on my wall: — Heartsease blossoms in my heart When sweet William comes to call,
A song in a cornfield Where corn begins to fall, Where reapers are reaping, Reaping one, reaping all. Sing pretty Lettice,
A ring upon her finger, Walks the bride, With the bridegroom tall and hands… At her side. A veil upon her forehead
When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much—frequented house: I passed the door, and saw my frie… Feasting beneath green orange boug… From hand to hand they pushed the…
Shall I forget on this side of th… I promise nothing: you must wait a… Patient and brave. (O my soul, watch with him and he… Shall I forget in peace of Paradi…
Oh the rose of keenest thorn! One hidden summer morn Under the rose I was born. I do not guess his name Who wrought my Mother’s shame,
Two days ago with dancing glancing… With living lips and eyes: Now pale, dumb, blind, she lies; So pale, yet still so fair. We have not left her yet, not yet…
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
‘Kookoorookoo! kookoorookoo!’ Crows the cock before the morn; ‘Kikirikee! kikirikee!’ Roses in the east are born. ‘Kookoorookoo! kookoorookoo!’
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…
Gone were but the Winter, Come were but the Spring, I would go to a covert Where the birds sing; Where in the whitethorn
Unmindful of the roses, Unmindful of the thorn, A reaper tired reposes Among his gathered corn: So might I, till the morn!
Motherless baby and babyless mothe… Bring them together to love one an…
‘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…
‘A cup for hope!’ she said, In springtime ere the bloom was ol… The crimson wine was poor and cold By her mouth’s richer red. ‘A cup for love!’ how low,
