“Too late for love, too late for j… Too late, too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch

Currants on a bush, And figs upon a stem, And cherries on a bending bough, And Ned to gather them.

Underneath the growing grass, Underneath the living flowers, Deeper than the sound of showers: There we shall not count the hours By the shadows as they pass.

What does the bee do? Bring home honey. And what does Father do? Bring home money. And what does Mother do?

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…

A linnet in a gilded cage,— A linnet on a bough,— In frosty winter one might doubt Which bird is luckier now. But let the trees burst out in lea…

Young Love lies sleeping In May—time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing,

Three plum buns To eat here at the stile In the clover meadow, For we have walked a mile. One for you, and one for me,

The dear old woman in the lane Is sick and sore with pains and ac… We’ll go to her this afternoon, And take her tea and eggs and cake… We’ll stop to make the kettle boil…

Lord Jesus, who would think that… Ah, who would think Who sees me ready to turn back or… That Thou art mine? I cannot hold Thee fast though Th…

She sat and sang alway By the green margin of a stream, Watching the fishes leap and play Beneath the glad sunbeam. I sat and wept alway

Crimson curtains round my mother’s… Silken soft as may be; Cool white curtains round about my… For I am but a baby.