Songs from Books

I'm just in love with all these three, The Weald and the Marsh and the Down countrie; Nor I don't know which I love the most, The Weald or the Marsh or the white chalk coast!

Where are the honest toilers? Where The gravid mistress of their care? A busy scene, indeed, he sees, But not a sign or sound of bees. Worms of the riper grave unhid By any kind...

The beasts are very wise, Their mouths are clean of lies, They talk one to the other, Bullock to bullock's brother Resting after their labours, Each in stall with his neighbours...

After the sack of the City, when Rome was sunk to a name, In the years that the lights were darkened, or ever St. Wilfrid came, Low on the borders of Britain (the ancient poets...

When the dole was ended, laughingly she said, 'Master, of a million mouths is not one unfed?' Laughing, Shiv made answer, 'All have had their part, Even he, the little one, hidd...

'Old Mother Laidinwool had nigh twelve months been dead. She heard the hops was doing well, an' so popped up her head,' For said she: 'The lads I've picked with when I was young...

Oh Thou Who has builded the World, Oh Thou Who has lighted the Sun, Oh Thou Who has darkened the Tarn, Judge Thou The sin of the Stone that was hurled By the goat from the light...

_I have collected in this volume practically all the verses and chapter-headings scattered through my books. In several cases where only a few lines of verse were originally use...

Tyr thought hard till he hammered out a plan, For he knew it was not right (And it _is_ not right) that The Beast should master Man; So he went to the Children of the Night. He...