Works, Volume 5

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C. Scribner's Sons, 1896
 

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Page 596 - REQUIEM UNDER the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the kitt.
Page 540 - I saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies...
Page 610 - Let the blow fall soon or late, Let what will be o'er me; Give the face of earth around And the road before me. Wealth I seek not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I seek the heaven above And the road below me.
Page 540 - HAPPY THOUGHT THE world is so full of a number of things I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
Page 619 - O to mount again where erst I haunted ; Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted, And the low green meadows Bright with sward ; And when even dies, the million-tinted, And the night has come, and planets glinted, Lo, the valley hollow Lamp-bestarred...
Page 618 - BRIGHT is the ring of words When the right man rings them. Fair the fall of songs When the singer sings them. Still they are carolled and said— On wings they are carried— After the singer is dead And the maker buried.
Page 537 - The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow — Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see; I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! One morning, very early, before...
Page 529 - IN winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. 1 have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day...
Page 539 - AH in the pleasant open air, The pleasant light of day ; And blown by all the winds that pass And wet with all the showers, She walks among the meadow grass And eats the meadow flowers.
Page 644 - Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye.

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