Roads are wet where'er one wendeth, And with rain the thistle bendeth, And the brook cries like a child! Not a rainbow shines to cheer us; Ah! the sun comes never near us, And the heavens look dark and wile.
He is happiest who hath power to gather wisdom from a flower. - Mary Howitt
He is happiest who hath power to gather wisdom from a flower.
- Mary Howitt
For visions come not to polluted eyes. - Mary Howitt
For visions come not to polluted eyes.
Buttercups and daisies, Oh, the pretty flowers; Coming ere the spring time, To tell of sunny hours. When the trees are leafless; When the fields… - Mary Howitt
Buttercups and daisies, Oh, the pretty flowers; Coming ere the spring time, To tell of sunny hours. When the trees are leafless; When the fields…
Yes, in the poor man's garden grow Far more than herbs and flowers - Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind, And Joy for weary hours. - Mary Howitt
Yes, in the poor man's garden grow Far more than herbs and flowers - Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind, And Joy for weary hours.
Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we; Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag in every sea. - Mary Howitt
Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we; Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag in every sea.
Will you walk into my parlour? Said the spider to a fly: '"Tis the prettiest little parlour That ever you did spy. - Mary Howitt
Will you walk into my parlour? Said the spider to a fly: '"Tis the prettiest little parlour That ever you did spy.
To ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair Can ne'er come down again. - Mary Howitt
To ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair Can ne'er come down again.
Oh the Broom, the yellow Broom, The ancient poet sung it, And dear it is on summer days To lie at rest among it. I know the realms where people … - Mary Howitt
Oh the Broom, the yellow Broom, The ancient poet sung it, And dear it is on summer days To lie at rest among it. I know the realms where people …
I know he's coming by this sign, That baby's almost wild; See how he laughs and crows and starts — Heaven, bless the merry child! He's father's self … - Mary Howitt
I know he's coming by this sign, That baby's almost wild; See how he laughs and crows and starts — Heaven, bless the merry child! He's father's self …
Login to join the discussion
Login to join the discussion