Jean Ingelow

And old affront will stir the heart
Through years of rankling pain.

And old affront will stir the heart
Through years of rankling pain.

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!

And bitter waxed the fray;
Brother with brother spake no word
When they met in the way.

And bitter waxed the fray;
Brother with brother spake no word
When they met in the way.

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.

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.