Oh, where’s the use of having gift… And where’s the use of singing, wh… It may be one or two will say your… But where’s the use of honey, when…

Short space shall be hereafter Ere April brings the hour Of weeping and of laughter, Of sunshine and of shower, Of groaning and of gladness,

I shall be spun. There is a voice… Which tells me plainly I am all u… For though I toil not, neither do… I shall be spun. April approaches. I have not begu…

The life of earth, how full of pai… Which greets us on our day of birt… Nor leaves us while we yet retain The life of earth. There is a shadow on our mirth,

I know the garden-close of sin, The cloying fruits, the noxious fl… I long have roamed the walks and b… Desiring what no man shall win: A secret place to shelter in,

Fickle Summer’s fled away, Shall we see her face again? Hearken to the weeping rain, Never sunbeam greets the day. More inconstant than the May,

There’s a fiddler in the street, And the children all are dancing: Two dozen lightsome feet Springing and prancing. Pleasure he gives to you,

These verses have I pilfered like… Out of a letter from my C. C. C. In London, showing what befell hi… With other things, of interest to… One page described a night in open…

Years grow and gather—each a gem Lustrous with laughter and with te… And cunning Time a crown of years Contrives for her who weareth them… No chance can snatch this diadem,

on returning to St. Andrews In the hard familiar horse-box I… Creeping back to old St. Andrews… Bearing bejants with their luggage… Which the porter, hot and tipless,…

Never was sun so bright before, No matin of the lark so sweet, No grass so green beneath my feet, Nor with such dewdrops jewelled o’… I stand with thee outside the door…

From Jean Pierre Claris Florian I love to see the swallows come At my window twittering, Bringing from their southern home News of the approaching spring.

In youth with diligence he toiled A Roman nose to gain, But though a decent pug was spoile… A pug it did remain.

How often have the critics, traine… To look upon the sky Through telescopes securely chaine… Forgot the naked eye. Within the compass of their glass

Sorrow and sin have worked their w… For years upon your sovereign face… And yet it keeps a faded trace Of its unequalled beauty still, As ruined sanctuaries hold