And what does Father do?
Bring home money.
And what does Mother do?
Lay out the money.
And what does baby do?
Eat up the honey.
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Rushes in a watery place,
A soaring skylark in the sky,A darting swallow;And where pale blossom used to hangRipe fruit to follow.
Twist me a crown of wind-flowers;
To hear the singers at their song,And players at their play.Put on your crown of wind-flowers:But whither would you go?Beyond the surging of the seaAnd the storms that blow.Alas! your crown of wind-flowersCan never make you fly:I twist them in a crown to-day,And to-night they die.
In my Autumn garden I was fain
Alas for that last rosebud which unclosesTo Autumn’s languid sun and rainWhen all the world is on the wane!Which has not felt the sweet constraint of June,Nor heard the nightingale in tune.Broad-faced asters by my garden walk,You are but coarse compared with roses:More choice, more dear that rosebud which unclosesFaint-scented, pinched, upon its stalk,That least…
I wish it were over the terrible pain,
First the shattering ruining blow,Then the probing steady and slow.Did I wince? I did not faint:My soul broke but was not bent;Up I stand like a blasted treeBy the shore of the shivering sea.On my boughs neither leaf nor fruit,No sap in my uttermost root,Brooding in an anguish dumbOn the short past and the long…
Strike the bells wantonly,
Bring me wine, bring me flowers,Ring the silver bell.All my lamps burn scented oil,Hung on laden orange-trees,Whose shadowed foliage is the foilTo golden lamps and oranges.Heap my golden plates with fruit,Golden fruit, fresh-plucked and ripe;Strike the bells and breathe the pipe;Shut out showers from summer hours—Silence that complaining lute—Shut out thinking, shut out pain,From hours…
O happy rosebud blooming
Nay, thou art too presumingFor soon the earth entombingThy faded charms shall be,And the chill damp consuming.O happy skylark springingUp to the broad blue sky,Too fearless in thy winging,Too gladsome in thy singing,Thou also soon shalt lieWhere no sweet notes are ringing.And through life’s shine and showerWe shall have joy and pain;But in the summer…