MOTLEY I count the only wear That suits, in this mixed world, t… Who boldly smile upon despair And shake their bells in Grandam… Singers should sing with such a go…

All night long and every night, When my mama puts out the light, I see the people marching by, As plain as day before my eye. Armies and emperor and kings,

Let Beauty awake in the morn from… Beauty awake from rest! Let Beauty awake For Beauty’s sake In the hour when the birds awake i…

Child — O mother, lay your hand on my brow… O mother, mother, where am I now? Why is the room so gaunt and great… Why am I lying awake so late?

In rigorous hours, when down the i… The redbreast looks in vain For hips and haws, Lo, shining flowers upon my window… The silver pencil of the winter dr…

WHEN loud by landside streamlets… And clear in the greenwood quires… With sun on the meadows And songs in the shadows Comes again to me

MY first gift and my last, to you I dedicate this fascicle of songs… The only wealth I have: Just as they are, to you. I speak the truth in soberness, an…

T last she comes, O never more In this dear patience of my pain To leave me lonely as before, Or leave my soul alone again.

Go, little book, and wish to all Flowers in the garden, meat in the… A bin of wine, a spice of wit, A house with lawns enclosing it, A living river by the door,

Youth now flees on feathered foot. Faint and fainter sounds the flute… Rarer songs of gods; and still Somewhere on the sunny hill, Or along the winding stream,

COME, my beloved, hear from me Tales of the woods or open sea. Let our aspiring fancy rise A wren’s flight higher toward the… Or far from cities, brown and bare…

Who comes to—night? We open the d… Who comes? My bursting walls, can… The presences that now together th… Your narrow entry, as with flowers… As with the air of life, the breat…

My tea is nearly ready and the sun… It’s time to take the window to se… For every night at teatime and bef… With lantern and with ladder he co… Now Tom would be a driver and Mar…

About my fields, in the broad sun And blaze of noon, there goeth one… Barefoot and robed in blue, to sca… With the hard eye of the husbandma… My harvests and my cattle. Her,

ON now, although the year be done… Now, although the love be dead, Dead and gone; Hear me, O loved and cherished on… Give me still the hand that led,