Yes! in the poor man's garden grow, Far more than herbs and flowers, Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind, And joy for weary hours.
Mary Howitt, The Poor Man's Garden.
Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we;Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag in every sea.Mary Howitt
"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly;"'T is the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy."Mary Howitt
The wild sea roars and lashes the granite cliffs below,And round the misty islets the loud strong tempests blow.Mary Howitt
Yes, in the poor man's garden growFar more than herbs and flowers—Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind,And joy for weary hours.Mary Howitt
Buttercups and Daisies— Oh, the pretty flowers,Coming ere the spring time, To tell of sunny hours.Mary Howitt
"Will you walk into my parlour?" Said a spider to a fly; "'Tis the prettiest little parlour That ever you did spy."Mary Howitt
Old England is our home and Englishmen are we, Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag on every sea.Mary Howitt
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.Mary Howitt
Then take me on your knee, mother; And listen, mother of mine. A hundred fairies danced last night, And the harpers they were nine.Mary Howitt
When on the breath of Autumn's breeze, From pastures dry and brown, Goes floating, like an idle thought, The fair, white thistle-down; O, then what joy to walk at will, Upon the golden harvest-hill!Mary Howitt