We have here a sight as fair As bonnie Doon or banks of Ayr, Like modest worth meandering slow The quiet waters gently flow, Rose, thistle, shamrock, all combine, Around the maple leaf to twine,...
An English youth to Canada came, A labourer, John Roe by name, His little wealth had made him bold, Twenty sovereigns in gold; He was industrious and wise And e'en small sums did not despise,...
How beautiful are the bodies of men - The agonists! Their hearts beat deep as a brazen gong For their strength's behests. Their arms are lithe as a seasoned thong...
Here I am, at headquarters, dear Terry, once more, Deep in Tory designs, as I've oft been before: For, bless them! if 'twasn't for this wrong-headed crew, You and I, Terry Alt, would scarce know what to do;...
The Text is from a broadside in the Bagford collection (i. 65); other broadsides, very similar, are to be found in the Pepys, Roxburghe, and other collections. The ballad has often been reprinted; and more than one oral version...
Lo! from the top of yonder cliff, that shrouds Its airy head amid the azure clouds, Hangs a huge fragment; destitute of props, Prone on the wave the rocky ruin drops;...
Swift through the eyes unto the heart within All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; So smooth and broad and open is the way That thousands and not hundreds enter in....
Swift through the eyes unto the heart within All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; So smooth and broad and open is the way That thousands and not hundreds enter in...
Who lives in suit of armour pent And hides himself behind a wall, For him is not the great event, The garland nor the Capitol. And is God's guerdon less than they? Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay:...
A glorious pageant filled the church of the proud old city of Rheims, One such as poet artists choose to form their loftiest themes: There France beheld her proudest sons grouped in a glittering ring,...
I think we are too ready with complaint In this fair world of God's. Had we no hope Indeed beyond the zenith and the slope Of yon gray blank of sky, we might grow faint To muse upon eternity's constraint...
Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come, and buy: If so be you ask me where They do grow? I answer, there Where my Julia's lips do smile; There's the land, or cherry-isle;...
He Fill your bowl with roses: the bowl, too, have of crystal. Sit at the western window. Take the sun Between your hands like a ball of flaming crystal, Poise it to let it fall, but hold it still,...
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the working of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford...