‘ Oh! bother,’ sang the thrush, ‘I’m in an awful rush, For I’ve got to get ready for the… With feathers from my breast, I’ll line a cosy nest,

Hot with the ardour of the sun, Whose burning lips had slain the n… The golden pallor of the moon Was but an added fire, o’ercome With memories she swooned away,

The faintness of my heart When strife and evil rose, The worse and lesser part Which it for ever chose, God knows.

Roses, I hate you! since you stil… Contentedly, where living love is… Can fling wan fragrance thro’ this… Lift languid petals shimmering 'mi… Where love is not.

Oh! why is the world as it is, we… With tears in our voice, and a sig… For nothing remains but an unfinis… While beauty is only hypocrisy’s m… The end of it all—but to die.

Upon my life I bear one precious… Each night I kiss it, till anew i… And tell each drop of blood, as ha… Are told by those dear few who fai… To me it seems to beautify, not ma…

Oh! it’s good to be alive, man. Good to take the road and tramp. When the morning smells of meadows… And the lanes are cool and damp. And the little furry creatures

What is the end of all sweet thing… Of these dawns and twilights and g… Of the rose that climbs, and the s… Of the breeze that sighs, and the… Dust and ashes and death?

I RODE through Eastnor woods to… And all the air did promise May, Did promise May till every tree Found voice to make much melody. And oh, the primi-ose flowers! the…

I saw a row of hollyhocks, Demure and stately-tall, They peep’d above a hedge of box, Like maidens in brocaded frocks, Who nodded one and all.

A drop of dew that on a rose-bud c… A ray of sunshine in a world of S… A bird, who singing from some hidd… Is bathed in streams of endless me… An open flower you trod on as you…

Baby, with those solemn eyes And that yellow hair You are very, very wise, Baby dear, I’ll swear! Give me, sweet, your chubby hand,

Upon a Sunday afternoon, When no one else was by, The httle girl from Hanley way. She came and walked with I. We climbed nigh to the Beacon top…

The thought of you has filled the… The dawn with praise, Till all my senses thrill, like ro… The morning’s rays. This love of ours has clad with ne…

A FIELD of scented clover That honey-bees hang over, A hazel-wood in Spring, Where thrush and robin sing. A stream that seaward flows.