Come, Let Us Find
Come, let us find a cottage, love, That’s green for half a mile around; To laugh at every grumbling bee, Whose sweetest blossom’s not yet found. Where many a bird shall sing for you,
A Greeting
Good morning, Life and all Things glad and beautiful. My pockets nothing hold, But he that owns the gold, The Sun, is my great friend His spending has no end. Hail to the morning
A Great Time
Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad, Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord, How rich and great the times are now! Know, all ye sheep And cows,
The Sluggard
A jar of cider and my pipe, In summer, under shady tree; A book by one that made his mind Live by its sweet simplicity: Then must I laugh at kings who sit In
The Heap of Rags
One night when I went down Thames’ side, in London Town, A heap of rags saw I, And sat me down close by. That thing could shout and bawl, But showed no face at
The Moon
Thy beauty haunts me heart and soul, Oh, thou fair Moon, so close and bright; Thy beauty makes me like the child That cries aloud to own thy light: The little child that lifts
Songs of Joy
Sing out, my soul, thy songs of joy; Sing as a happy bird will sing Beneath a rainbow’s lovely arch In the spring. Think not of death in thy young days; Why shouldst thou
Laughing Rose
If I were gusty April now, How I would blow at laughing Rose; I’d make her ribbons slip their knots, And all her hair come loose. If I were merry April now, How I
Where We Differ
To think my thoughts are hers, Not one of hers is mine; She laughs while I must sigh; She sighs while I must whine. She eats while I must fast; She reads while I
The Likeness
When I came forth this morn I saw Quite twenty cloudlets in the air; And then I saw a flock of sheep, Which told me how these clouds came there. That flock of sheep,
Sweet Stay-at-Home
Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, Thou knowest of no strange continent; Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep A gentle motion with the deep; Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, Where scent comes forth
Truly Great
My walls outside must have some flowers, My walls within must have some books; A house that’s small; a garden large, And in it leafy nooks. A little gold that’s sure each week; That
A Fleeting Passion
Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp, Let’s grimly kiss with bated breath; As quietly and solemnly As Life when it is kissing Death. Now in the silence of the grave, My hand
Days Too Short
When primroses are out in Spring, And small, blue violets come between; When merry birds sing on boughs green, And rills, as soon as born, must sing; When butterflies will make side-leaps, As though
Charms
She walks as lightly as the fly Skates on the water in July. To hear her moving petticoat For me is music’s highest note. Stones are not heard, when her feet pass, No more