Young laughters, and my music
Aye till now The voice can reach no blending minors near; 'Tis the bird's trill because the spring is here And spring means trilling on a blossomy bough; 'Tis the spring joy that has no why or how,
But sees ...
He, when young Spring protrudes the bursting gems,
Into his freshened soul; her genial
He full enjoys; and not a beauty
And not an opening blossom breathes in vain
There was a Young Lady of Clare,
Who was sadly pursued by a bear;
When she found she was tired,
She abruptly expired,
My young son asks me:
Must I learn mathematics
What is the use,
I feel like saying
Where now is the horse and the rider
Where is the horn that was blowing
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing
There was a Young Lady of Lucca,
Whose lovers completely forsook her;
She ran up a tree,
And said, 'Fiddle-de-dee
The young dead soldiers do not speak
Nevertheless, they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them
They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts
They say:
Baby Babbles—only one,
Now to sit up has begun
Little Babbles quite turned
Walks as well as I and you
A thousand doors agowhen I was a lonely kidin a big house with fourgarages and it was summeras long as I could remember,
I lay on the lawn at night,clover wrinkling over me,the wise stars bedding over me,my mother's window a funnelof yellow h...
At last you yielded up the album,
Once open, sent me distracted
All your
Matt and glossy on the thick black pages
There was a Young Lady of Turkey,
Who wept when the weather was murky;
When the day turned out fine,
She ceased to repine,
Hooded crows fly at night over the walls of Chang'an,uttering harsh cries above Welcoming Autumn Gate,then head for people's houses, pecking at the lofty roofs,roofs beneath which high officials scurry to escape barbarians
The golden whip is ...