"Lie there," I said, "my Sorrow! lie thou there! And I will drink the lissome air, And see if yet the heavens have gained their blue." Then rose my Sorrow as an aged man,...
Ah little mill, you're rumbling still, Ah sunset flecked with gold! Ah deepening tinge, ah purple fringe Of lilac as of old! Ah hawthorn hedge, ah light-won pledge Of kisses warm and plenty,...
I bended unto me a bough of May, That I might see and smell: It bore it in a sort of way, It bore it very well. But, when I let it backward sway, Then it were hard to tell...