‘Croak, croak, croak,’ Thus the Raven spoke, Perched on his crooked tree As hoarse as hoarse could be. Shun him and fear him,
When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much—frequented house: I passed the door, and saw my frie… Feasting beneath green orange boug… From hand to hand they pushed the…
As eager homebound traveller to th… Or steadfast seeker on an unsearch… Or martyr panting for an aureole, My fellow—pilgrims pass me, and at… That hidden mansion of perpetual p…
On the grassy banks Lambkins at their pranks; Woolly sisters, woolly brothers Jumping off their feet While their woolly mothers
O Lady Moon, your horns point tow… Shine, be increased; O Lady Moon, your horns point tow… Wane, be at rest.
Ten years ago it seemed impossible That she should ever grow so calm… With self—remembrance in her warme… And dim dried eyes like an exhaust… Slow—speaking when she had some fa…
Heartsease in my garden bed, With sweetwilliam white and red, Honeysuckle on my wall: — Heartsease blossoms in my heart When sweet William comes to call,
If he would come to—day, to—day, t… O, what a day to—day would be! But now he’s away, miles and miles… From me across the sea. O little bird, flying, flying, fly…
Dead in the cold, a song—singing t… Dead at the foot of a snowberry bu… Weave him a coffin of rush, Dig him a grave where the soft mos… Raise him a tombstone of snow.
Contemptuous of his home beyond The village and the village—pond, A large—souled Frog who spurned e… Hopped along the imperial highway. Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
When fishes set umbrellas up If the rain—drops run, Lizards will want their parasols To shade them from the sun.
Wee wee husband, Give me some money, I have no comfits, And I have no honey. Wee wee wifie,
Why did baby die, Making Father sigh, Mother cry? Flowers, that bloom to die, Make no reply
I love and love not: Lord, it bre… To love and not to love. Thou veiled within Thy glory, gon… Into Thy shrine, which is above, Dost Thou not love me, Lord, or c…
‘A cup for hope!’ she said, In springtime ere the bloom was ol… The crimson wine was poor and cold By her mouth’s richer red. ‘A cup for love!’ how low,