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Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm; Time and fevers burn away Individual beauty from Thoughtful children, and the grave Proves the child ephemeral: But in my arms till break of day Let the living creature…

[TENOR] Were I the wind, I’d blow no more on such a wicked, miserable world. I’d crawl somewhere to a cave, and slink there [CHOIR] Evil is unspectacular and always human And shares our bread and eats at our own…

You were a great Cunarder, I Was only a fishing smack. Once you passed across my bows And of course you did not look back. It was only a single moment yet I watch the sea and sigh, Because my…

Well, so that is that. Now we must dismantle the tree, Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes – Some have got broken – and carrying them up to the attic. The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and…

Victor was a little baby, Into this world he came; His father took him on his knee and said: ‘Don’t dishonour the family name.’Victor looked up at his father Looked up with big round eyes: His father said; ‘Victor, my only son, Don’t you ever ever tell lies.’ Victor and his…

Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colours wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks Through his innocent grove; Lion, fish and swan Act, and are gone Upon Time’s toppling wave. We,…

If the hill overlooking our city has always been known as Adam’s Grave, only at dusk can you see the recumbent giant, his head turned to the west, his right arm resting for ever on Eve’s haunch can you learn, from the way he…

Dear, though the night is gone Its dream still haunts today That brought us to a room Cavernous, lofty as A railway terminus And crowded in that gloom Were beds, and we in one In a far corner lay Our…

James Honeyman was a silent child He didn’t laugh or cry; He looked at his mother With curiosity.Mother came up to the nursery, Peeped through the open door, Saw him striking matches Sitting on the nursery floor. He went to the children’s party, The buns…

What’s in your mind, my dove, my coney; Do thoughts grow like feathers, the dead end of life; Is it making of love or counting of money, Or raid on the jewels, the plans of a thief? Open your eyes, my dearest dallier; Let…