#1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics #EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters
IN trumpet-toned accents I heard A voice in a vision to cry;— ‘By threat of no tyrant deterred, We rear up our banner on high. ‘No longer, tho’ feeble and poor,
YE’VE heard of Meg Goldlocks of… The stoniest damsel that ever was… Yet, her beauty distress’d, with i… Of the lasses for miles around Wi… Mary of Howdon, with Robin would…
A SYREN, with her mirror bright… His ear enchants; and while he lis… His image on his dazzled sight, A very jewel gleams and glistens. Ah, could he peer into yon brook,
A CLOUD the valley domes, and d… Yon erewhile sun-lit mountain stea… And bit by bit, with one black fro… The green and gold below concealed… Down, down it comes, and pain me n…
I’m as loyal a subject as Britain… Our Queen she is gracious, and ge… But another this moment demandeth… ’Tis Annie, the lass with the two… The hair of my idol’s a stream of…
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
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…
IN the coal-pit, or the factory, I toil by night or day, And still to the music of labour I lilt my heart-felt lay; I lilt my heart-felt lay
BACK flies my soul to other year… When thou that charming lay repeat… When smiles were only chased by te… Yet sweeter far than smiles the sw… Thy music ends, and where are they…
FLY not away, wee birdie, pray! No weasels we, no evil-bringers, Would make thee bear the pangs tha… Too oft the hearts of sweetest sin… Long may thy nest with eggs be ble…
O, COULD I a garland braid, That would never, never fade, I would crown the modest maid Queen of earth’s joy-giving band! Poor or wealthy, dark or fair,
MY mother bade me go. I went: But beat my heart, ere I returned… A rat-tat-tan, and what it meant Too soon I to my sorrow learned. Her errand to the youth I ran,
AH me! my heart is like to break, The envied rose upon my cheek, The blood red rose is cold and ble… Now Robin slighteth me. Alas! a shadow lone and pale
I NEVER said my verse you’d moc… Nor how you’d giggled at my gramma… You, on whom Fame her door has lo… I little mark’d your empty clamour… I merely said that when you’d call…
WHAT is Man? The question flo… From the lips with ease, and yet He who best can answer knoweth, Answer true were hard to get. Not the Sphinx in Egypt olden