"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,...
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...
A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! Rose plot, Fringed pool, Ferned grot, The veriest school Of peace; and yet the fool Contends that God is not, Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?...