The long grief left her old--and then Came love and made her young again As though some newer, gentler Spring Should start dead roses blossoming; Old roses that have lain full long...
There lived an old man in the Kingdom of Tess, Who invented a purely original dress; And when it was perfectly made and complete, He opened the door and walked into the street. ...
Dark the halls, and cold the feast, Gone the bridemaids, gone the priest. All is over, all is done, Twain of yesterday are one! Blooming girl and manhood gray, Autumn in the arms of May! ...
Be welcome, year! with corn and sickle come; Make poor the body, but make rich the heart: What man that bears his sheaves, gold-nodding, home, Will heed the paint rubbed from his groaning cart! ...
The wave is breaking on the shore, The echo fading from the chime; Again the shadow moveth o'er The dial-plate of time! O seer-seen Angel! waiting now With weary feet on sea and shore,...
What a charm ther is abaat owt new; whether it's a new year or a new waist-coit. Aw sometimes try to fancy what sooart ov a world ther'd be if ther wor nowt new. ...
Let others look for pearl and gold, Tissues, or tabbies manifold: One only lock of that sweet hay Whereon the blessed Baby lay, Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall be The richest New-Year's gift to me.
The circling months begin this day To run their yearly ring, And long-breathed time, which ne'er will stay, Refits his wings and shoots away, It round again to bring. Who feels the force of female eyes...
Says Dick, "ther's a nooation sprung up i' mi yed, For th' furst time i'th' whole coorse o' mi life, An aw've takken a fancy aw'st like to be wed, If aw knew who to get for a wife. ...
Persian, you rise Aflame from climes of sacrifice Where adulators sue, And prostrate man, with brow abased, Adheres to rites whose tenor traced All worship hitherto.
What a difference in the morning When you try to raise your head; When your eyelids seem so heavy You could swear they were of lead; When your tongue is thickly coated And you have an awful thirst;...
You young friskies who today Jump and fight in Father's hay With bows and arrows and wooden spears, Playing at Royal Welch Fusiliers, Happy though these hours you spend,...
I was gaun to my supper richt hungert an' tired, A' day I'd been hard at the pleugh; The snaw wi' the dark'nin' was fast dingin' on, An' the win' had a coorse kin' o' sough....
Oh! give me the night, the dark, dark night, The night with never a star. When the stars are veiled and the moon has sailed Beyond the horizon's bar. When thought grows weary of groping its way...
Sleepy policemen waddle under streetlights. Broken beggars grumble when they sense people. On some corners powerful streetcars stutter. And plush cabs drop into the stars....