A man there came, whence none could tell, Bearing a Touchstone in his hand;
38 lines
An Elf sat on a twig,
He was not very big,
34 lines
These little Songs, Found here and there,
27 lines
Is always Age severe?
Is never Youth austere?
9 lines
Pluck not the wayside flower,
It is the traveller's dower;
16 lines
Adieu to Belashanny!
where I was bred and born;
160 lines
Doleful was the land, Dull on, every side,
61 lines
See the pretty planet!
Floating sphere!
28 lines
When the spinning-room was here
Came Three Damsels, clothed in white,
40 lines
Little Cowboy, what have you heard,
Up on the lonely rath's green mound?
71 lines
I once was a guest at a Nobleman's wedding;
Fair was the Bride, but she scarce had been kind,
32 lines
The Abbot of Innisfallen
awoke ere dawn of day;
108 lines
By the shore, a plot of ground
Clips a ruined chapel round,
28 lines, 1 comment
Ring-Ting! I wish I were a Primrose,
A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the spring!
24 lines
In early morning twilight, raw and chill,
Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill,
58 lines
Within a budding grove,
In April's ear sang every bird his best,
49 lines
A man who keeps a diary, pays
Due toll to many tedious days;
6 lines
Saint Margaret's Eve it did befall,
The waves roll so gayly O,
53 lines
O spirit of the Summer-time!
Bring back the roses to the dells;
14 lines
Hayrick some do spell thy name,
And thy verse approves the same;
4 lines
Gold tassel upon March's bugle-horn,
Whose blithe reveille blows from hill to hill
14 lines
I'm glad I am alive, to see and feel
The full deliciousness of this bright day,
14 lines
Down on the shore, on the sunny shore!
Where the salt smell cheers the land;
30 lines
October - and the skies are cool and gray O'er stubbles emptied of their latest sheaf,
15 lines
I thought it was the little bed
I slept in long ago;
20 lines
Seek up and down, both fair and brown,
We've purty lasses many, O;
48 lines
A wild west Coast, a little Town,
Where little Folk go up and down,
8 lines
In Sussex here, by shingle and by sand,
Flat fields and farmsteads in their wind-blown trees,
14 lines
Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born;
Go where I may, I'll think of you, as sure as night and morn.
88 lines
Here the white-ray'd anemone is born,
Wood-sorrel, and the varnish'd buttercup;
13 lines
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