NOT IN CLASSIC LOOK, BUT RICH IN THE CHILD-SAGAS OF THE KITCHEN
KNEEL, ALL GLOWING, TO THE COOL SPRING
NO BOY KNOWS WHEN HE GOES TO SLEEP
JAMESY ON THE SLACK-ROPE
ACROSS THE ORCHARD
WHILE ALL THE ARMY, FOLLOWING, IN CHORUS CHEERS AND SINGS
WHERE IT GOES WHEN THE FIRE GOES OUT?
THE FAIRY QUEEN OF THE SEASONS
PORE PA! PORE PA!
SQUINT' OUR EYES AN' LAUGH' AGAIN
HE'S A-MARCHIN' ROUND THE ROOM
THE OLD TREE SAYS HE'S ALL OUR TREE
THEREFORE READ NO LONGER
SHE'S BUT A RACING SCHOOL-GIRL
THEY WAS GOD'S PEOPLE
THEM WUZ THE BEST TIMES EVER WUZ
HE'S GO' HITCH UP, CHRIS'MUS-DAY, AN' COME TAKE ME BACK AGAIN
WHEN WE DROVE TO HARMONY
A BIG, HOLLOW, OLD OAK-TREE, WHICH HAD BEEN BLOWN DOWN BY A STORM
THE YOUNG FOXES IN IT, ON THE HEARTH BESIDE HER
AN' ALL BE POETS AN' ALL RECITE
ALONG THE BRINK OF WILD BROOK-WAYS
I LIKE TO WATCH HIM
WHILE KATE PICKS BY, YET LOOKS NOT THERE
LEND ME THE BREATH OF A FRESHENING GALE
BOW TO ME IN THE WINDER THERE
OUR "OLD-KRISS"-MILKMAN
THE CHILDISH DREAMS IN HIS WISE OLD HEAD
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