General Books

Under the window is my garden, Where sweet, sweet flowers grow; And in the pear-tree dwells a robin, The dearest bird I know. Tho' I peep out betimes in the morning, Still the flowers are up the first; Then I try and talk to the robin, And perhaps he'd chat—if he durst.13 Will you be my little wife, If I ask you? Do! I'll buy you such a Sunday frock, A nice umbrella, too. And you shall... more...

Child Songs of Cheer A robin redbreast, fluting thereUpon the apple-bough,Is telling all the world how fairAre apple-blossoms now;The honey-dew its sweetness spillsFrom cuckoo-cups, and allThe crocuses and daffodilsAre drest for festival!Such pretty things are to be seen,Such pleasant things to do,The April earth it is so green,The April sky so blue,The path from dawn to even-songSo joyous is... more...

Rupert Brooke was both fair to see and winning in his ways. There was at the first contact both bloom and charm; and most of all there was life. To use the word his friends describe him by, he was "vivid". This vitality, though manifold in expression, is felt primarily in his sensations — surprise mingled with delight — "One after one, like tasting a sweet food." This is life's... more...