#English
You’re just as pretty as the Day, That young and pink above the hill… Trips daintily along her way, With little breezy thrills. I know that when she steps to eart…
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…
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…
June 29th Beneath the lime trees in the gard… High above the town, The scent of whose suspended bloom Entranced the air with warm perfum…
Set my hands upon the plough. My feet upon the sod ; Turn my face towards the east, And praise be to God! Every year the rains do fall,
Oh! my valley of shade and dreams! Golden lights 'mid the distant blu… Sun that pauses to kiss the dew, Dew that trembles beneath its beam… Fain were I but a bird above,
To meet almost as strangers, who h… Such lovers in the past! no glad d… To thrill our senses, till the wro… For very joy—I wonder will your m… Be happy? it seems years since I…
Dear Ghost, across a wind-swept s… You wander back again to me, And I am not afraid, for see I bid you rest beside me here! I press your icy lips to mine,
I see’d yer turn the other day To watch a chap go by, Because he wore a uniform, And held his shoulders high. And then yer wouldn’t even smile.
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.
Through the rustling river grasses Warm and sweet the young wind pass… Blowing shyly soft caresses To their dewy emerald tresses. All along the silver sands
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.
O Raggedstone, you darksome hiU, Your shadow fell for sure Upon my own dear love and I, Across the purple moor. For we were such a happy pair,
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?
The hillside green with bracken. And the red plough land, The brownish hurrying rivers, Where the willows stand. The thickets and the meadows.
