The Forest of Wild Thyme: A Tale for Children Under Ninety

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W. Blackwood and Sons, 1905 - Poetry, Modern - 99 pages

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Page 89 - Ah, who knows, who knows, who knows? A man that died on a lonely hill May tell you, perhaps, but none other will, Little child. What does it take to make a rose, Mother-mine? The God that died to make it knows It takes the world's eternal wars, It takes the moon and all the stars, It takes the might of heaven and hell And the everlasting Love as well, Little child.
Page 23 - Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home; Your house is on fire and your children are gone.
Page 13 - OH, grown-ups cannot understand And grown-ups never will, How short's the way to fairy-land Across the purple hill: They smile: their smile is very bland, Their eyes are wise and chill; And yet — at just a child's command The world's an Eden still.
Page 40 - And we couldn't quite remember where we'd heard that phrase before, As the great grey-bearded ogre stood beside his open door; But an echo seemed to answer from a land beyond the sky — Won't you walk into my parlour 1...
Page 10 - And there in that smallest bud lay furled The secret and meaning of all the world.
Page 20 - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine...
Page 27 - In the library : he's listening for your footstep on the stair And your patter down the passage, he can only think of Peterkin : Come back, come back to father, for to-day he'd let us tear His newest book to make a paper-boat for little Peterkin.
Page 4 - Come, my brother pirates, I am tired of play ; >, Come and look for Peterkin, little brother Peterkin...

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