Jean Ingelow

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;
"Pull, if ye read more

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;
"Pull, if ye never pulled before;
Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he.
"Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells!
Ply all your changes, all your swells,
Play uppe The Brides of Enderby."

How gently rock yon poplars high
Against the reach of primrose sky
With heaven's pale candles stored.

How gently rock yon poplars high
Against the reach of primrose sky
With heaven's pale candles stored.

Man is the miracle in nature. God
Is the One Miracle to man. Behold,
"There is a read more

Man is the miracle in nature. God
Is the One Miracle to man. Behold,
"There is a God," thou sayest. Thou sayest well:
In that thou sayest all. To Be is more
Of wonderful, than being, to have wrought,
Or reigned, or rested.

Against her ankles as she trod
The lucky buttercups did nod.

Against her ankles as she trod
The lucky buttercups did nod.

Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.

Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.