And are gone to praise God and His priest and king,
Who made up a heaven of our misery.'



NURSE'S SONG



When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And whisperings are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.

Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Your spring and your day are wasted in play,
And your winter and night in disguise.



THE SICK ROSE



O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,