#English
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…
Without what desolation! mist and… And weeping trees, and roses that… While still in blossom, till the a… Lies low, and speechless, and benu… An early twilight hyies the gentle…
Can nothing last? No deep, intense emotion? Have all things passed, Can nothing last? ‘Yes,’ sighs the wind,
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…
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.
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.
Meeting you I felt a thrill, Strangely sad, and strangely sweet… Some compelling force of will, Sprung from sympathies complete, Sympathies, that rose again
Song Butterfly, butterfly, where are yo… ‘Over the roses into the sky.’ Butterfly, butterfly, there is no… When you’ll come back again, so go…
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.
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…
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,
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…
Sweet are the silent places of the… Green heart of woods through which… Long sloping meadows sown with sil… Old gardens thick with scents of d… Pale dome of morning, ere the firs…
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…
What have we missed, we two— You and I—I and you— Of sorrow, and pain, and tears, Of doubt, and of passionate fears, Of madness, and badness, these yea…
