#English #Victorians #Women
Baby lies so fast asleep That we cannot wake her: Will the angels clad in white Fly from heaven to take her? Baby lies so fast asleep
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…
The year stood at its equinox And bluff the North was blowing, A bleat of lambs came from the flo… Green hardy things were growing; I met a maid with shining locks
If he would come to—day, to—day, t… O, what a day to—day would be! But now he’s away, miles and miles… From me across the sea. O little bird, flying, flying, fly…
Two gaz’d into a pool, he gaz’d an… Not hand in hand, yet heart in hea… Pale and reluctant on the water’s… AS on the brink of parting which… Each eyed the other’s aspect, she…
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…
I loved my love from green of Spr… Until sere Autumn’s fall; But now that leaves are withering How should one love at all? One heart’s too small
Mix a pancake, Stir a pancake, Pop it in the pan; Fry the pancake, Toss the pancake, —
The summer nights are short Where northern days are long: For hours and hours lark after lar… Trills out his song. The summer days are short
I loved you first: but afterwards… Outsoaring mine, sang such a lofti… As drowned the friendly cooings of… Which owes the other most? my love… And yours one moment seemed to wax…
Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land… When you can no more hold me by th… Nor I half turn to go yet turning… Remember me when no more day by da…
Your hands lie open in the long fr… The finger—points look through lik… Your eyes smile peace. The pastur… ‘Neath billowing skies that scatte… All round our nest, far as the eye…
I sat beneath a willow tree, Where water falls and calls; While fancies upon fancies solaced… Some true, and some were false. Who set their heart upon a hope
Gone were but the Winter, Come were but the Spring, I would go to a covert Where the birds sing; Where in the whitethorn
You must not call me Maggie, you… For I’m Lady of the Manor now st… And if there comes a babe, as ther… 'Twill be little lord or lady at m… Oh, but what ails you, my sailor c…