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Dicky
© Robert Graves
To-night across the down,
Whistling and jolly,
I sauntered out from town
With my stick of holly.
Satire II:The Country Mouse and the Town Mouse
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
MY mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That for because her livelood was but thin [livelihood]
Would needs go seek her townish sister's house.
Of the Mean and Sure Estate
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That, for because her livelood was but thin,
Mine Own John Poynz
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Mine own John Poynz, since ye delight to know
The cause why that homeward I me draw,
And flee the press of courts, whereso they go,
Rather than to live thrall under the awe
To Mother
© Marina Tsvetaeva
In the old Strauss waltz for the first time
We had listened to your quiet call,
Since then all the living things are alien
And the knocking of the clock consoles.
Grey Hairs
© Marina Tsvetaeva
These are ashes of treasures:
Of hurt and loss.
These are ashes in face of which
Granite is dross.
Ailsie, My Bairn
© Eugene Field
Lie in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn,-
Lie in my arms and dinna greit;
Long time been past syn I kenned you last,
But my harte been allwais the same, my swete.
The Passing Of The Primroses
© Alfred Austin
Primroses
Nay, rather, why should we longer stay?
We are not needed, now stooping showers
Have sandalled the feet of May with flowers.
The Sicilian Captive
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
The champions had come from their fields of war,
Over the crests of the billows far,
They had brought back the spoils of a hundred shores,
Where the deep had foam'd to their flashing oars.
We Must Get Home
© James Whitcomb Riley
We must get home! How could we stray like this?--
So far from home, we know not where it is,--
Only in some fair, apple-blossomy place
Of children's faces--and the mother's face--
We dimly dream it, till the vision clears
Even in the eyes of fancy, glad with tears.
Fable Of The Rhododendron Stealers
© Sylvia Plath
I walked the unwalked garden of rose-beds
In the public park; at home felt the want
Of a single rose present to imagine
The garden's remainder in full paint.
Faringdon Hill. Book I
© Henry James Pye
What various objects scatter'd round us lie,
And charm on every side the curious eye!
Amidst such ample stores, how shall the Muse
Know where to turn her sight, and which to choose?
The Virgin Mother
© David Herbert Lawrence
My little love, my darling,
You were a doorway to me;
You let me out of the confines
Into this strange countrie,
Where people are crowded like thistles,
Yet are shapely and comely to see.
Genius And Love
© Frances Anne Kemble
Genius and Love together stood
At break of day beside clear fountains,
They Loved One Another
© Caroline Norton
THEY loved one another! young Edward and his wife,
And in their cottage-home they dwelt, apart from sin and strife.
Blue
© David Herbert Lawrence
The earth again like a ship steams out of the dark sea over
The edge of the blue, and the sun stands up to see us glide
Slowly into another day; slowly the rover
Vessel of darkness takes the rising tide.
The Rewards Of Industry
© Edgar Albert Guest
A FRIEND of mine said yesterday: "There goes a man across the way
Who paid ten thousand dollars for a home a week ago;
The Dead Christ
© Julia Ward Howe
Take the dead Christ to my chamber,
The Christ I brought from Rome;
