Merry little Margery
With her hair all yellow.
Little Willie in his heart
Is a sailor on the sea,
And he often cons a chart
With sister Margery.
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Chide not; let me breathe a little,
Though the life-cord was so brittle,The love-cord was very strong.I would wake a little spaceTill I find a sleeping-place.You can go,—I shall not weep;You can go unto your rest.My heart-ache is all too deep,And too sore my throbbing breast.Can sobs be, or angry tears,Where are neither hopes nor fears?Though with you I am aloneAnd must…
What is pink? a rose is pink
What is red? a poppy’s redIn its barley bed.What is blue? the sky is blueWhere the clouds float thro’.What is white? a swan is whiteSailing in the light.What is yellow? pears are yellow,Rich and ripe and mellow.What is green? the grass is green,With small flowers between.What is violet? clouds are violetIn the summer twilight.What is…
By day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair:
Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosyAnd subtle serpents gliding in her hair.By day she woos me to the outer air,Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety:But through the night, a beast she grins at me,A very monster void of love and prayer.By day she stands a lie: by night she standsIn all the naked horror…
O Christ, the Vine with living Fruit,
The Balm in Gilead after strife,The valley Lily and the Rose;Stronger than Lebanon, Thou Root;Sweeter than clustered grapes, Thou Vine;O Best, Thou Vineyard of red wine,Keeping thy best wine till the close.Pearl of great price Thyself alone,And ruddier than the ruby Thou;Most precious lightning Jasper stone,Head of the corner spurned before:Fair Gate of pearl, Thyself…
Swift and sure the swallow,
Slow and sure may miss his way,Swift and sure may fail.
Dead in the cold, a song-singing thrush,
Weave him a coffin of rush,Dig him a grave where the soft mosses grow,Raise him a tombstone of snow.