Feet and faces tingle In that frore land: Legs wobble and go wingle, You scarce can stand. The skies are jewelled all around,
You young friskies who today Jump and fight in Father’s hay With bows and arrows and wooden sp… Playing at Royal Welch Fusiliers… Happy though these hours you spend…
‘Gabble—gabble . . . brethren . .… My window glimpses larch and heath… I hardly hear the tuneful babble, Not knowing nor much caring whethe… The text is praise or exhortation,
“Are you awake, Gemelli, This frosty night?” 'We’ll be awake till reveillé, Which is Sunrise,' say the Gemell… “It’s no good trying to go to slee…
Under this loop of honeysuckle, A creeping, coloured caterpillar, I gnaw the fresh green hawthorn sp… I nibble it leaf by leaf away. Down beneath grow dandelions,
All saints revile her, and all sob… Ruled by the God Apollo’s golden… In scorn of which we sailed to fin… In distant regions likeliest to ho… Whom we desired above all things t…
You, love, and I, (He whispers) you and I, And if no more than only you and… What care you or I? Counting the beats,
Father is quite the greatest poet That ever lived anywhere. You say you’re going to write grea… I chose that first: it’s unfair. Besides, now I can’t be the great…
In my body lives a flame, Flame that burns me all the day; When a fierce sun does the same, I am charred away. Who could keep a smiling wit,
Children, if you dare to think Of the greatness, rareness, muchne… Fewness of this precious only Endless world in which you say You live, you think of things like…
Henry, Henry, do you love me? Do I love you, Mary? Oh, can you mean to liken me To the aspen tree. Whose leaves do shake and vary,
Come close to me, dear Annie, whi… A tale of burning love between a k… The pot was stalwart iron and the… And though their sides were black… Forget that kettle, Jamie, and th…
The great sun sinks behind the tow… Through a red mist of Volnay wine… But what’s the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the tow… You’ll only skip the page, you’ll…
The difference between you and her (whom I to you did once prefer) Is clear enough to settle: She like a diamond shone, but you Shine like an early drop of dew
The butterfly, the cabbage white, (His honest idiocy of flight) Will never now, it is too late, Master the art of flying straight, Yet has —who knows so well as I?…