Cuckoo Song

Sumer is icumen in,
   Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,
   And springth the wude nu--
   Sing cuccu!

Awe bleteth after lomb,
   Lhouth after calve cu;
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth,
   Murie sing cuccu!

Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu:
   Ne swike thu naver nu;
Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu,
   Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu!


Cradle Song

O my deir hert, young Jesus sweit,
Prepare thy creddil in my spreit,
And I sall rock thee in my hert
And never mair from thee depart.

But I sall praise thee evermoir
With sangis sweit unto thy gloir;
The knees of my hert sall I bow,
And sing that richt Balulalow!


Corinna's Going A-Maying

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming Morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air;
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herb and tree.
Each flower has wept, and bow'd toward the east,
Above an hour since; yet you not drest,
Nay! not so much as out of bed?
When all the birds have matins said,
And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin,
Nay, profanation, to keep in,


Daisy

Where the thistle lifts a purple crown
Six foot out of the turf,
And the harebell shakes on the windy hill--
O breath of the distant surf!--

The hills look over on the South,
And southward dreams the sea;
And with the sea-breeze hand in hand
Came innocence and she.

Where 'mid the gorse the raspberry
Red for the gatherer springs;
Two children did we stray and talk
Wise, idle, childish things.

She listened with big-lipped surprise,
Breast-deep 'mid flower and spine:


Daily, Daily, Sing The Praises

Daily, daily, sing the praises
Of the city God hath made;
In the beauteous fields of Eden
Its foundation stones are laid.

Refrain

O that I had wings of angels,
Here to spread and heavenward fly!
I would seek the gates of Zion,
Far beyond the starry sky.

All the walls of that dear city
Are of bright and burnished gold;
It is matchless in its beauty,
And its treasures are untold.

Refrain

In the midst of that dear city
Christ is reigning on His seat,


Dad's a Millionaire

I wish you joy, my little ragged throng--
Your Dad's a millionaire!
The fortune's come, we've waited for so long,
And I'm a millionaire!
Come Will, come Bub--go buy some better shoes;
Come Liz, come Lu--go tell your Ma the news--
Though once poor, we're now as rich as Jews,
For I'm a millionaire.

Hurrah! hurrah! now give us a rousing song--
Good bye! good bye! to poverty, want and care;
The fortune's come, we've waited for so long,
And Dad's a millionaire!

Good news! I'll go a shopping--so I will,


Da Leetla Boy

Da spreeng ees com'! but oh, da joy
   Eet ees too late!
He was so cold, my leetla boy,
   He no could wait.

I no can count how manny week,
How manny day, dat he ees seeck;
How manny night I seet an' hold
Da leetla hand dat was so cold.
He was so patience, oh, so sweet!
Eet hurts my throat for theenk of eet;
An' all he evra ask ees w'en
Ees gona com' da spreeng agen.
Wan day, wan brighta sunny day,
He see, across da alleyway,
Da leetla girl dat's livin' dere


Cyder Book I

-- -- Honos erit huic quoq; Pomo? Virg.


What Soil the Apple loves, what Care is due
To Orchats, timeliest when to press the Fruits,
Thy Gift, Pomona, in Miltonian Verse
Adventrous I presume to sing; of Verse
Nor skill'd, nor studious: But my Native Soil
Invites me, and the Theme as yet unsung.

Ye Ariconian Knights, and fairest Dames,
To whom propitious Heav'n these Blessings grants,
Attend my Layes; nor hence disdain to learn,


Cuckoo Song

Sing, cuccu, nu! Sing, cuccu!
Sing, cuccu! Sing, cuccu, nu!
Sumer is icumen in;
Lhud{.e} sing, cuccu!
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,
And springth the wud{.e} nu.
Sing, cuccu!

Aw{.e} bleteth after lomb,
Lhouth after calv{.e} cu;
Bulluc sterteth, buck{.e} verteth;
Muri{.e} sing, cuccu!

Cuccu! cuccu!
Wel sing{.e}s thu, cuccu;
Ne swik thu naver nu.


Crumble-Hall

When Friends or Fortune frown on Mira's Lay,
Or gloomy Vapours hide the Lamp of Day;
With low'ring Forehead, and with aching Limbs,
Oppress'd with Head-ach, and eternal Whims,
Sad Mira vows to quit the darling Crime:
Yet takes her Farewel, and Repents, in Rhyme.

But see (more charming than Armida's Wiles)
The sun returns, and Artemisia smiles:
Then in a trice the Resolutions fly;
[And who so frolick as the Muse and I?]
We sing once more, obedient to her Call;
Once more we sing; and 'tis of Crumble-Hall;


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