#English
GOD with His million cares Went to the left or right, Leaving our world; and the day Grew night. Back from a sphere He came
In summer, when the grass is thick… She shows me with her pencil how a… And often she is sweet enough to c… Where I cuddle up so closely when… In winter when the corn’s asleep,…
When first sent to School (now th… I fancied my masters and took to t… I thought to myself—here ’tis plai… Revolving at last in an orbit of j… The Alphabet Grecian I quickly c…
HERE in the country’s heart Where the grass is green, Life is the same sweet life As it e’er hath been. Trust in a God still lives,
Excuse me, Sweetheart, if I smear… With wisdom learnt from ancient te… Now winter time once more is here, This grease upon your lengthy feat… Behaving thus, your loyal friend
All work is over at the farm And men and maids are ripe for gle… Love slips among them sly and warm Or calls them to the chestnut-tree… As Colin looks askance at Jane
THOUGH singing but the shy and… Untrod by multitudes of feet, Songs bounded by the brook and whe… I have not failed in this, The only lure my woodland note,
O BROTHERS, who must ache and… O’er wordy tasks in London town, How scantly Laura trips for you— A poem in a gown! How rare if Grub-street grew a la…
If you passed her in your city You would call her badly dressed, But the faded homespun covers Such a heart in such a breast! True, her rosy face is freckled
WAIT but a little while— The bird will bring A heart in tune for melodies Unto the spring, Till he who ’s in the cedar there
If ever there was a Golden Game To brace the nerves, to cure repin… To put the Dumps to flight and sh… It’s Cricket when the sun is shin… Gentlemen, toss the foolscap by,
Tend me my birds, and bring again The brotherhood of woodland life, So shall I wear the seasons round A friend to need, a foe to strife; Keep me my heritage of lawn,
The brook told the dove And the dove told me That Cicely’s bathing at the pool With other virgins three. The brook told the dove
Last night some yellow letters fel… From out a scrip I found by chanc… Among them was the silent ghost, The spirit of my first romance: And in a faint blue envelope
Bartholomew is very sweet, From sandy hair to rosy feet. Bartholomew is six months old, And dearer far than pearls or gold… Bartholomew has deep blue eyes,