Jean Ingelow

When sparrows build and the leaves break forth
My old sorrow wakes and cries.

When sparrows build and the leaves break forth
My old sorrow wakes and cries.

And O the buttercups! that field
O' the cloth of gold, when pennons swam--
Where France set read more

And O the buttercups! that field
O' the cloth of gold, when pennons swam--
Where France set up his lilied shield,
His oriflamb,
And Henry's lion-standard rolled:
What was it to their matchless sheen,
Their million million drops of gold
Among the green!

Such a slender moon, going up and up,
Waxing so fast from night to night,
And swelling read more

Such a slender moon, going up and up,
Waxing so fast from night to night,
And swelling like an orange flower-bud, bright,
Fated, methought, to round as to a golden cup,
And hold to my two lips life's best of wine.

Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
read more

Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
Asleep, and waiting for the opening day,
When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but
one moon.

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but
one moon.