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Page 50 - UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE' UNDER the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i...
Page 202 - twas wondrous pitiful; She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished That heaven had made her such a man; she thanked me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake; She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them.
Page 89 - The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Page 211 - YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o
Page 230 - Call'd me polluted : shall I kill myself? What help in that ? I cannot kill my sin, If soul be soul ; nor can I kill my shame ; No, nor by living can I live it down. The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to months, The months will add themselves and make the years, The years will roll into the centuries, And mine will ever be a name of scorn.
Page 211 - Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine ; And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And fondly sae did I o
Page 89 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Page 89 - Crabbed age and youth cannot live together Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare; Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame. Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; O, my love, my love is young!
Page 142 - O purblind race of miserable men, How many among us at this very hour Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves, By taking true for false, or false for true ; Here, thro...