God rest you, Chrysten gentil men, Wherever you may be,-- God rest you all in fielde or hall, Or on ye stormy sea; For on this morn oure Chryst is born That saveth you and me. ...
In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there; That I take a delight on a Saturday night In walking that way and in viewing the sight....
Should painter attach to a fair human head The thick, turgid neck of a stallion, Or depict a spruce lass with the tail of a bass, I am sure you would guy the rapscallion. ...
Happy the man that, when his day is done, Lies down to sleep with nothing of regret-- The battle he has fought may not be won-- The fame he sought be just as fleeting yet;...
Tiddle-de-dumpty, tiddle-de-dee-- The spider courted the frisky flea; Tiddle-de-dumpty, tiddle-de-doo-- The flea ran off with the bugaboo! "Oh, tiddle-de-dee!" Said the frisky flea--...
Out on the mountain over the town, All night long, all night long, The trolls go up and the trolls go down, Bearing their packs and crooning a song; And this is the song the hill-folk croon,...
How cool and fair this cellar where My throne a dusky cask is; To do no thing but just to sing And drown the time my task is. The cooper he's Resolved to please, And, answering to my winking,...
Dear wife, last midnight while I read The tomes you so despise, A specter rose beside the bed And spoke in this true wise; "From Canaan's beatific coast I've come to visit thee,...
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe,-- Sailed on a river of misty light Into a sea of dew. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three....
Ed was a man that played for keeps, 'nd when he tuk the notion, You cudn't stop him any more'n a dam 'ud stop the ocean; For when he tackled to a thing 'nd sot his mind plum to it,...
Grim is the face that looks into the night Over the stretch of sands; A sullen rock in the sea of white-- A ghostly shadow in ghostly light, Peering and moaning it stands....
Prince, show me the quickest way and best To gain the subject of my moan; We've neither spinsters nor relics out West-- These do I love, and these alone.
The day is done; and, lo! the shades Melt 'neath Diana's mellow grace. Hark, how those deep, designing maids Feign terror in this sylvan place! Come, friends, it's time that we should go;...
'Tis years, soubrette, since last we met, And yet, ah yet, how swift and tender My thoughts go back in Time's dull track To you, sweet pink of female gender! I shall not say--though others may--...
The Greeks had genius,--'t was a gift The Muse vouchsafed in glorious measure; The boon of Fame they made their aim And prized above all worldly treasure.