#English
I weave my verses of smiles and te… Gathered and shed for you, I bind them up in the hopes of yea… Dear, will you read them through? I write my ballads of joy and pain…
What a lonely little corpse our lo… Very cold, and very still, and ver… Yet he throbbed with passion there… And we thought his every word divi… Have we both grown old, that neith…
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.
Once o’er this hill whereon we sta… Just you and I, hand clasp’d in h… Amid the silence, and the space, A mighty battle rent the air, With dying curse and choking praye…
Dear, give me the tips of your fin… To hold in this scented gloom, ‘ Mid the sighs of the dying roses… That steal through the breeze-swep… I would have you but lightly touch…
If not from Phaon I must hope for… Ah! let me seek it from the raging… To raging seas unpitied I’ll remo… And either cease to live or cease… Ovid’s Heroic Epistle, XV.
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
A RIPPLE and a rush, and a mati… And, oh! the month must be at May… A blossom and a tree, and a honey-… And, oh! it’s such a perfect day! A meeting and a smile, and a sunli…
Willow wand, willow wand, Change this little slender frond To a Princess tall and fair. With a mass of golden hair. Of golden hair.
What so dead as my love for you, What so terribly dead! Lay it low ‘neath the grass and de… Bury it deep in an earthy bed, Then put a tombstone over its head
Our little love is newly born, And shall I say good-bye? For if I go, perchance ere dawn Our little love will die! I’d better stay and help it grow,
Ah! Faith, I’d barter all I own… But one brief moment of your magic… Whereby my spirit freed from earth… Might spread its wings towards imm… Is there no wisdom but it steals o…
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…
Bredon is a lonesome hill, It hasn’t any brothers ; It stands within the Severn vale, Apart from all the others. The Cotswold Hills go hand in han…
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.
