Coomb-Firtrees say that Life is a moan, And Clyffe-hill Clump says "Yea!" But Yell'ham says a thing of its own: It's not "Gray, gray Is Life alway!" That Yell'ham says,...
The first faint dawn was flushing up the skies When, dreamland still bewildering mine eyes, I looked out to the oak that, winter-long, a winter wild with war and woe and wrong...
Yes, the weary earth shall brighten - Brighten in the perfect day, And the fields that now but whiten, Golden glow beneath the ray! Slowly swelling in her bosom, Long the precious seed has lain, -...
Yes, yes, when, the bloom of Love's boyhood is o'er, He'll turn into friendship that feels no decay; And, tho' Time may take from him the wings he once wore, The charms that remain will be bright as before,...
I dreamed and did not seek: to-day I seek Who can no longer dream; But now am all behindhand, waxen weak, And dazed amid so many things that gleam Yet are not what they seem. ...
"You are old, father William," the young man said, "And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head, Do you think, at your age, it is right? ...
You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease, Within this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas. It is the land that freemen till, That sober-suited Freedom chose,...
I've noticed this happen, when everything is black, When I'm down below zero and cannot get back, When I feel like a sort of a National Debt, That will go on for ages and never be met,...
You mustn't show weakness and you've got to have a tan. But sometimes I feel like the thin veils of Jewish women who faint at weddings and on Yom Kippur.
Young England, what is then become of Old Of dear Old England? Think they she is dead, Dead to the very name? Presumption fed On empty air! That name will keep its hold In the true filial bosom's inmost fold...
But, Song, arise thee on a greater wing, Nor twitter robin-like of love, nor sing A pretty dalliance with grief - but try Some metre like a sky, Wherein to set Stars that may linger yet...
Why did she marry him? Ah, say why! How was her fancy caught? What was the dream that he drew her by, Or was she only bought? Gave she her gold for a girlish whim, A freak of a foolish mood?...