English

A greyhound should be headed like a Snake,
And necked like a Drake,
Footed like a Cat,
Tailed liked a Rat,
Sided like a Team,
Chined like a Beam.

The first year he must learn to feed,
The second year to field him lead,
The third year he is fellow-like,
The fourth year there is none sike,
The fifth year he is good enough,
The sixth year he shall hold the plough,
The seventh year he will avail
Great bitches for to assail,
The eighth year lick ladle,
The ninth year cart saddle,

Grey was the morn, all things were grey,
'Twas winter more than spring;
A bleak east wind swept o'er the land,
And sobered everything.

Grey was the sky, the fields were grey,
The hills, the woods, the trees —
Distance and foreground — all the scene
Was grey in the grey breeze.

Grey cushions, and a grey skin rug,
A dark grey wicker trap,
Grey were the ladies' hats and cloaks,
And grey my coat and cap.

A narrow, lonely, grey old lane;
And lo, on a grey gate,

The grey goat grazed on the hill,
The grey hare grazed by his side,
And never a word they said
From morning till eventide,
And never a word they said,
Though each understood the other,
For the wind that played on the hill
Whispered, " My dear grey brother. "

The grey goat went home at dusk,
Down to the cottage door,
The grey hare scuttled away
To his burrow across the moor.
And never a word they said,
Though each understood the other,
For the wind that slept on the hill

The grey beards wag, the bald heads nod,
And gather thick as bees,
To talk electrons, gases, God,
Old nebulae, new fleas.
Each specialist, each dry-as-dust
And professorial oaf,
Holds up his little crumb of crust
And cries, " Behold the loaf!"

The Grenadiers of Austria are proper men and tall;
The Grenadiers of Austria have scaled the city wall;
——They have marched from far away
——Ere the dawning of the day,
And the morning saw them masters of Cremona.

There's not a man to whisper, there's not a horse to neigh,
Of the footmen of Lorraine and the riders of Duprés;
——They have crept up every street,
——In the market-place they meet,
They are holding every vantage in Cremona.

The Marshal Villeroy he has started from his bed;

My heart troubled
by the sound of the waves,
I spend the night,
my only friend the moon's light
winnowing through this hut.

The greenest of grass in the long meadow grows;
And the stream, how the stream is dancing!
How cool is its kiss on the little brown toes
That find it a playmate entrancing!
Forgotten the bad days —
The weary and sad days,
Or time all unheeding
That bright hours are speeding,
Forgotten is " bed " by the children in June.

Green star Sirius
Dribbling over the lake;
The stars have gone so far on their road,
Yet we're awake!

Without a sound
The new young year comes in
And is half-way over the lake.
We must begin

Again. This love so full
Of hate has hurt us so,
We lie side by side
Moored — but no,

Let me get up
And wash quite clean
Of this hate —
So green

The great star goes!
I am washed quite clean,
Quite clean of it all.
But e'en

So cold, so cold and clean

( A BOY AND GIRL ARE SENT TO GATHER RUSHES FOR THATCHING )

Green rushes with red shoots,
Long leaves bending to the wind—
You and I in the same boat
Plucking rushes at the Five Lakes.
We started at dawn from the orchid-island:
We rested under the elms till noon.
You and I plucking rushes
Had not plucked a handful when night came!

" Green leaves, what are you doing
Up there on the tree so high? "
" We are shaking hands with the breezes,
As they go singing by. "

" What, green leaves! Have you fingers? "
Then the Maple laughed with glee:
" Yes, just as many as you have;
Count us, and you will see! "