Mary Howitt

Roads are wet where'er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like read more

Roads are wet where'er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like a child!
Not a rainbow shines to cheer us;
Ah! the sun comes never near us,
And the heavens look dark and wile.

Heart's ease! one could look for half a day
Upon this flower, and shape in fancy out
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Heart's ease! one could look for half a day
Upon this flower, and shape in fancy out
Full twenty different tales of love and sorrow,
That gave this gentle name.

"Will you walk into my parlour?"
Said a spider to a fly;
"'Tis the prettiest little parlour
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"Will you walk into my parlour?"
Said a spider to a fly;
"'Tis the prettiest little parlour
That ever you did spy."