‘May I go to the field,’ said the little white rabbit,
‘Where the corn grows sweet and high?’
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A Ballad
Father John in the green lane went
And he drew his robe full tight,
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I shall go on the gypsies' road,
The road that has no ending;
For the sedge is brown on the lone lake side,
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The oak is a brave tree that groweth in the wood—
The oak, and the pine, and the aspen tree—
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'This is an evil night to go, my sister,
To the thorn-tree across the fairy rath,
Will you not wait till Hallow Eve is over?
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I have listened for the beat
Of slow wings across the sea.
In their strange and dumb retreat
From their foreign liberty.
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Kine, kine, in the meadows, why do you low so piteously?
High is the grass to your knees and wet with the dew of the morn,
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Prince Charming, when the wizard's wand
Had wrecked for aye my fairyland;
Had razed my castles to the earth,
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Golden-throated, hath God sent thee for our comfort in the city?
Sweet, sweet! singing, singing all the day.
I said Ah, the young Spring she will l ...
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My darling laughed in the dawning,
And the birds perched low to hear.
The quick sprung anew from dead ashes
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