And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen—
Then hey for boot and horse lad,
And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.
When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down—
Creep home, and take your place there,
The spent and manned among;
God grant you find one face there
You loved when all was young.
The sport may be lost by a moment’s delay;So whip up the puppies and scurry away.Dash down through the cover by dingle and dell,There’s a gate at the bottom-I know it full well;And they’re running-they’re running,Go hark!They’re running-they’re running, Go hark!One fence and we’re out of the park;Sit down in your saddles and race at…
Cold cold church, in thy death sleep lying,The Lent is past, thy Passion here, but not thine Easter-day.Peace, faint heart, though the night be dark and sighing;Rest, fair corpse, where thy Lord himself hath lain.Weep, dear Lord, above thy bride low lying;Thy tears shall wake her frozen limbs to life and health again.
As if the sum of joy to youWere hunt and picnic, rout and ball.Your eyes met mine: I did not blame;You saw it: but I touched too nearSome noble nerve; a silent tearSpoke soft reproach, and lofty shame.I do not wish those words unsaid.Unspoilt by praise and pleasure, youIn that one look to woman grew,While…
But I know that there is a spirit in you,And a word in you this day.I cannot tell what you say, rosy rocks,I cannot tell what you say :But I know that there is a spirit in you,And a word in you this day.I cannot tell what you say, brown streams,I cannot tell what you…
Among the moorlands of her own fair land,Amid a ring of old and moss-grown stonesIn gorse and heather all embosomed.There should be no tall stone, no marble tombAbove her gentle corse;-the ponderous pileWould press too rudely on those fairy limbs.The turf should lightly he, that marked her home.A sacred spot it would be-every birdThat came…
And I’ll sing you a song of a Wood-LyonCame swimming out over the sea.He ranged west, he ranged east,And far and wide ranged he;He took his bite out of every beastLives under the greenwood tree.Then by there came a silly old wolf,‘And I’ll serve you,’ quoth he;Quoth the Lyon, ‘My paw is heavy enough,So what…
