This ugly old crone - Every beauty she had When a maid, when a maid. Her beautiful eyes, Too youthful, too wise, Seemed ever to come To so lightless a home, Cold and dull as a stone....
Launcelot loved Guinevere, Ages and ages ago, Beautiful as a bird was she, Preening its wings in a cypress tree, Happy in sadness, she and he, They loved each other so. ...
Ann, Ann! Come! Quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. Out of the fat, As clear as glass, He put up his mouth And moaned 'Alas!' Oh, most mournful,...
Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the briar's boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are - Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries...
The sun is clear of bird and cloud, The grass shines windless, grey, and still, In dusky ruin the owl dreams on, The cuckoo echoes on the hill; Yet soft along Alulvan's walks...
By chance my fingers, resting on my face, Stayed suddenly where in its orbit shone The lamp of all things beautiful; then on, Following more heedfully, did softly trace...
Once and there was a young sailor, yeo ho! And he sailed out over the say For the isles where pink coral and palm branches blow, And the fire-flies turn night into day, Yeo ho!...
Here lies a most beautiful lady, Light of step and heart was she; I think she was the most beautiful lady That ever was in the West Country. But beauty vanishes; beauty passes;...
Come, then, with showers; I love thy cloudy face Gilded with splendour of the sunbeam thro' The heedless glory of thy locks. I know The arch, sweet languor of thy fleeting grace,...
Far are the shades of Arabia, Where the Princes ride at noon, 'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets, Under the ghost of the moon; And so dark is that vaulted purple Flowers in the forest rise...
As Lucy went a-walking one morning cold and fine, There sate three crows upon a bough, and three times three is nine: Then "O!" said Lucy, in the snow, "it's very plain to see...
"Sneeze, Pretty, sneeze, Dainty, Else the Elves will have you sure, Sneeze, Light-of-Seven-Bright-Candles, See they're tippeting at the door; Their wee feet in measure falling,...
'Grill me some bones,' said the Cobbler, 'Some bones, my pretty Sue; I'm tired of my lonesome with heels and soles, Springsides and uppers too; A mouse in the wainscot is nibbling;...
A poor old Widow in her weeds Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds; Not too shallow, and not too deep, And down came April - drip - drip - drip. Up shone May, like gold, and soon...