WHEN ICICLES HANG. When all aloud the wind cloth blow, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! tu-whoo! a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. William Shakespeare. THE NYMPH'S REPLY If all the world and love were young, Time drives the flocks from field to fold, THE NYMPH S REPLY. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, But could youth last, and love still breed Sir Walter Rai Kigh. |