Home from the daisied meadows, where you linger yet -Home, golden-headed playmate, ere the sun is set;
For the dews are falling
And the night has come at last
Home with you, home and lay your little head at rest,
But to have lain upon the grass One perfect day, one perfect hour, Beholding all things mortal pass Into the quiet of green grass; But to have lain and loved the sun, Under the shadow of the trees, To have been found in unison, Once only, with the...
I Love to sit in the
And watch the foaming
Leap over its granite bed
I love these days that run On a burnished golden dial With the blue sky overhead
'Tis a dull
To see the year dying,
When winter
Set the yellow wood sighing: