#English
A little white Cloud loved the Mo… She hung in the sky all day, And gazed with rather a timid smil… To where, beneath her full many a… The earth and the loved one lay.
‘ 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,
In the meadows by the Avon, Underneath the slope of Bredon, There we often used to wander, My girl and I. All around the thrushes singing.
Oh! that the night were passed, an… Made lovely by the joy of spring, Would flood these sombre clouds wi… Oh! that some hopeful bird would s… And in his tiny feathered throat
Oh! golden is the gorse-bush. Beneath an April sky, The lark is full of singing, The clouds are white and high ; But my love, my love is faithless.
Oh! the long green lanes of Engla… They be very far away, And it’s there that I’d be walkin… ‘Mid the hawthorn and the may. Where the trees are all in blossom…
To-day I heard the cuckoo call. Atop of Bredon Hill, I heard him near the blackthorn bu… And Oh! my heart stood still! For it was just a year ago,
Crush these voluptuous grapes betw… Your small, strong teeth! and let… Be offered in a sacrificial rain Of sun-warmed essence; while I tw… Of all their leaves, and place it…
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.
The day our dead are laid to rest We heap the earth upon their breas… Upon the earth we set a stone. And then we leave them all alone. Some folks they weep, and some the…
The faintness of my heart When strife and evil rose, The worse and lesser part Which it for ever chose, God knows.
The Malvern Hills be green some d… And some days purple-blue, There never was the like of them The whole of England through. From Hanley straight into the Wel…
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.
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
The blossoms of a Judas tree Deep pink against an azure sea, A silver moth on thoughtless vving… A hidden bird that hghts to sing, A little cloud that wanders by.