English

All things that pass
Are woman's looking-glass;
They show her how her bloom must fade,
And she herself be laid
With withered roses in the shade;
With withered roses and the fallen peach.
Unlovely, out of reach
Of summer joy that was.

All things that pass
Are woman's tiring-glass;
The faded lavender is sweet,
Sweet the dead violet
Culled and laid by and cared for yet;
The dried-up violets and dried lavender
Still sweet, may comfort her,
Nor need she cry Alas!

All things that pass

The upland flocks grew starved and thinned:
Their shepherds scarce could feed the lambs
Whose milkless mothers butted them,
Or who were orphaned of their dams.
The lambs athirst for mother's milk
Filled all the place with piteous sounds:
Their mothers' bones made white for miles
The pastureless wet pasture grounds.

Day after day, night after night,
From lamb to lamb the shepherds went,
With teapots for the bleating mouths
Instead of nature's nourishment.
The little shivering gaping things

A chill blank world. Yet over the utmost sea
The light of a coming dawn is rising to me,
No more than a paler shade of darkness as yet;
While I lift my heart, O Lord, my heart unto Thee
Who hast not forgotten me, yea, Who wilt not forget.

Forget not Thy sorrowful servant, O Lord my God,
Weak as I cry, faint as I cry underneath Thy rod,
Soon to lie dumb before Thee a body devoid of breath,
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, a sod to the sod:
Forget not my life, O my Lord, forget not my death.

In this same spot seven years ago the love-god found me
And with a wayward wreath of trivial sweet flowers crowned me,—
Seven wild long years ago.
In this same spot to-day a tender new love finds me
And here again the sweet and wayward love-god binds me
(Though love's bonds melt like snow!)

Ah! ever so it is. For ever and for ever
The love-god haunts our steps, and yet his chains are never
Abiding and supreme.
Love's breath is as the breath of summer's countless roses:
Yet when the sweet long month of sunlit gardens closes

In early youth how far that City seems!—
When our friends die, they seem to pass away
Into some land where all the airs are grey,—
Some viewless region too remote for dreams
Even,—where never sun of daylight gleams:—
Our own steps loiter onward day by day;
O'er many a dark-blue lake and sunny bay
We sail; we kiss white hands on moonlit streams.

We gather flowers: the City of the dead
Is still remote. “Which is the fairest thing,”
We say—“a red mouth, or this rose of red?”
Along the May-bright lanes we laugh and sing.

To drop among green bushes in the spring
Hid from the thrushes that above head sing
With mossy trunks of trees for couch & seat
Where near a pathway dreads approaching feet

Roll thee in my Lowlan plaidie
Nestle cozey by my side
Love wi me and be my ladie
And we love on in world sae wide

Ro[ll] thee in my Tartan Plaidie
Cozey sit upon my knee
In thy Tartan silk sweet lady
Thy lovely form is sweet to see

Ro[ll] thee in my Tartan Plaidie
Let me gaze upon thy charms
Thou a bonny beauteous lady
Come unto thy Lovers arms

With thy ancles scarce a span
Thou an armful art sweet lady
Come thou better half o'man
Ro[ll] thee in my Tartan Pladie

Remember dear Mary love cannot deceive
Loves truth cannot vary dear Mary believe
You may hear and believe it believe it and hear
Love could not deceive it those features so dear
Believe me dear Mary to press thy soft hand
Is sweeter than riches in houses and Land.

Where I pressed thy soft hand at the dew fall o' eve
I felt the sweet tremble that cannot deceive
If love you believe in Belief is my love
As it lived once in Eden ere we fell from above
To this heartless this friendless this desolate earth

T'was in the month of April when birds all merry sing
I took a walk to Kingsthorp right early i' the spring
I took a walk to Kingsthorp right early i' the day
And there I met my true love go barefoot by the way

Her ancles they were handsome and lovely was her feet
Her face was like an Irish girls and beautifully sweet
She passed me like a stranger I think I see her still
I could not tell my own true love in such a dissabille

Her eyes were like two diamonds and a woman all complete

I know him not my mither dear
Youre always in his way
But when you're gone he's always here
Aye thretty times a day
He's always asking ‘Whats o Clock?’
And what we aynt to lend
Hes some strange loon a come to mock
If not my mothers friend.

Guess not so rude uncouthly chield
He's maybe led astray
Wi thy white bosom let me feel't
If that will aught betray
She saw her wark was slowly done
No thread spun frae the rock
She own'd blood red the tell tale sun
Saw kisses near the clock.