Playing at bob cherry

Seated out of sightHid in Heavenly LightOf most highest height.Martyred hosts implore Thee,Seraphs fall before Thee,Angels and Archangels,Cherub throngs adore Thee;Blessed She that bore Thee!All the Saints approve Thee,All the Virgins love Thee.I show as a blotBlood hath cleansed not,As a barren spotIn Thy fruitful lot.I, fig-tree fruit-unbearing;Thou, righteous Judge unsparing:What canst Thou do more…

If bright or dim the season, it might beSummer or winter for aught I can say.So unrecorded did it slip away,So blind was I to see and to foresee,So dull to mark the budding of my treeThat would not blossom yet for many a May.If only I could recollect it! SuchA day of days! I…

Mother cry?Flowers, that bloom to die,Make no replyOf ‘why?’But bow and die.

There dwelt three merry maidensUpon a distant hill.One was tall Megan,And one was dainty May,But one was fair Margaret,More fair than I can say,Long ago and long ago.When Megan plucked the thorny rose,And when May pulled the brier,Half the birds would swoop to see,Half the beasts draw nigher;Half the fishes of the streamsWould dart up…

All because her Johnny’s comingHome from sea.And she glows like a roseWho was so pale,And ‘Are you sure the church clock goes?’Says she.

Never ‘shan’t,’Never ‘won’t.’