THE poor ghost came through the wind and rain
And passed down the old dear road again.
AH, turn your pretty eyes away!
You would not have me love again?
Love's pleasure does not live a day,
Immortal is Love's pain,
THE house is haunted; when the little feet
Go pattering about it in their play,
I tremble lest the little one should meet
SIR GEOFFREY met the white lady
Upon his marriage morn,
Her eyes were blue as cornflowers are,
Her hair was gold like corn.
HEART of my heart, my life and light,
If you were lost what should I do?
I dare not let you from my sight,
IF Love and I were all alone
I might forget to grieve,
And for his pleasure and my own
Many's the time I've found your face
Fresh as a bunch of flowers in May,
Waiting for me at our own old place
At the end of the working day.
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
ONE came to me in royal guise
With banners flying fair and free
But many griefs had made me wise
And I refused to bow the knee.
In the wood of lost causes, the valley of tears,
Old hopes, like dead leaves, choke the difficult way;