#English #Victorians #XIXCentury #1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics
MY little boy, thy laughter Goes to my bosom core, And sends me yearning after The days that are no more. Adown my cheek is stealing
MY wee, wee fawn, you see me yawn… Well, I’m not much disposed to fl… And were I so, you rogue! you kno… You’re proof against the fiercest… You have an ear? of stone, my dear…
WHAT is man? The question flow… From the lips with ease, and yet He who best could answer knoweth Answer true were hard to get: Not the Sphinx in Egypt olden,
DAME Malice reigns the Queen of… With wink and whisper, nod and cha… She trots along, and never fags, While she has scandal-seeds to sca… Then when her seeds are poison-wee…
ALAS! the woe the high of heart, Seem pre-ordained to undergo, While proud ambition hides the sma… And smiles delude the world below. Their anguish, like a Samson blin…
AWAY to the well lilted Annie; Away with her skiel to the well; Away to the well whistled Johnnie… The pride and delight of the dell. Sweet, sweet is the well; but ah,…
OLD Uncle Bob lay on the settle, At eventide, while on the hob, ‘Roe-tee-riti-too’ sang the kettle… And charmed the dear heart of old… ‘Ree-tee-riti-too’ on his ears, lo…
YOU quite mistake the sprite you… I’m of the under, not the upper, Order of the fairy race; And cannot go with you to supper. ‘You silly elf, Titania’s self
I’m the spirit Emmalina thy guard… Drawn hither by a subtle law but f… The golden cord of sympathy I lea… Thy aching brows with lilies to en… I have watched thee late and early…
WAS ever wretch in such a plight? I scramble on I know not whither! The witches are abroad to-night; Some wicked one has led me hither! ‘That’s just like you, you’ll have…
Too lovely art thou to behold, And not to be stung by desire, To bathe in those ringlets of gold… To bathe in those glances of fire. Too lovely art thou to the ken,
THEE glory of her charms I felt, And thro’ my frame electric ran What made my stubborn heart to mel… And feel as hearts of passion can; And from that hour, her eyes of je…
O, MY Spirit, art thou vanquisht… Is thy latest prospect gone? Must my task be thus relinquisht Ere my noble end is won? Must I die, and be remember’d
BALOO, my sweet baby—the blossom… I dandle’t till weary, and sigh, With not a bare drop in my bosom To silence its pitiful cry. The red moon above us right rarely…
HEAVEN-GIFTED was the mortal… A bard the chords of whose great s… Who deemed the mighty universe its… From which at the Creator’s touch… An instrument it is by which a gam…