Winfreda
(A BALLAD IN THE ANGLO-SAXON TONGUE) When to the dreary greenwood gloam Winfreda’s husband strode that day, The fair Winfreda bode at home To toil the weary time away; “While thou art gone to
Dutch lullaby
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe, Sailed on a river of misty light Into a sea of dew. “Where are you going, and what do you wish?” The
Pittypat and Tippytoe
All day long they come and go Pittypat and Tippytoe; Footprints up and down the hall, Playthings scattered on the floor, Finger-marks along the wall, Tell-tale smudges on the door By these presents you
The wind
(THE TALE) Cometh the Wind from the garden, fragrant and full of sweet singing Under my tree where I sit cometh the Wind to confession. “Out in the garden abides the Queen of the
The Twenty-Third Psalm
My Shepherd is the Lord my God, There is no want I know; His flock He leads in verdant meads, Where tranquil waters flow. He doth restore my fainting soul With His divine caress,
Some time
Last night, my darling, as you slept, I thought I heard you sigh, And to your little crib I crept, And watched a space thereby; And then I stooped and kissed your brow, For
Yvytot
Where wail the waters in their flaw A spectre wanders to and fro, And evermore that ghostly shore Bemoans the heir of Yvytot. Sometimes, when, like a fleecy pall, The mists upon the waters
To Robin Goodfellow
I see you, Maister Bawsy-brown, Through yonder lattice creepin’; You come for cream and to gar me dream, But you dinna find me sleepin’. The moonbeam, that upon the floor Wi’ crickets ben a-jinkin’,
Hugo's "pool in the forest"
How calm, how beauteous and how cool How like a sister to the skies, Appears the broad, transparent pool That in this quiet forest lies. The sunshine ripples on its face, And from the
Mr. Dana, of the New York Sun
Thar showed up out’n Denver in the spring uv ’81 A man who’d worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun. His name wuz Cantell Whoppers, ‘nd he wuz a sight ter view Ez
Abu midjan
When Father Time swings round his scythe, Entomb me ‘neath the bounteous vine, So that its juices, red and blithe, May cheer these thirsty bones of mine. “Elsewise with tears and bated breath Should
Fisherman jim's kids
Fisherman Jim lived on the hill With his bonnie wife an’ his little boys; ‘T wuz “Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will – Naught we reck of your cold and noise!” For happy
The brook
I looked in the brook and saw a face – Heigh-ho, but a child was I! There were rushes and willows in that place, And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran
A rhine-land drinking song
If our own life is the life of a flower (And that’s what some sages are thinking), We should moisten the bud with a health-giving flood And ’twill bloom all the sweeter Yes, life’s
The shut-eye train
Come, my little one, with me! There are wondrous sights to see As the evening shadows fall; In your pretty cap and gown, Don’t detain The Shut-Eye train – “Ting-a-ling!” the bell it goeth,