Alice Cary ( 4 of 4 )
The fisher droppeth his net in the stream,
And a hundred streams are the same as one;
read more
The fisher droppeth his net in the stream,
And a hundred streams are the same as one;
And the maiden dreameth her love-lit dream;
And what is it all, when all is done?
The net of the fisher the burden breaks,
And always the dreaming the dreamer wakes.
The berries of the brier rose
Have lost their rounded pride:
The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums
read more
The berries of the brier rose
Have lost their rounded pride:
The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums
Are drooping heavy-eyed.
With hand on the spade and heart in the sky
Dress the ground and till it;
Turn read more
With hand on the spade and heart in the sky
Dress the ground and till it;
Turn in the little seed, brown and dry,
Turn out the golden millet.
Work, and your house shall be duly fed:
Work, and rest shall be won;
I hold that a man had better be dead
Than alive when his work is done.
Ah, don't be sorrowful darling,
And don't be sorrowful, pray:
Taking the year together, my dear,
read more
Ah, don't be sorrowful darling,
And don't be sorrowful, pray:
Taking the year together, my dear,
There isn't more night than day.