Here's pennyroyal and marigolds! Come, buy my nettle-tops. Here's water-cress and scurvy-grass! Come buy my sage of virtue, ho! Come buy my wormwood and mugwort! Here's all fine herbs of every sort: Here's southernwood that's very good, Dandelion and house-leek; Here's dragon's tongue and wood-sorrel, With bear's-foot and horehound.
* * * * *
Lazy cattle wading in the water Where the ripples dimple round the buttercups of gold.
Whitcomb Riley.
* * * * *
When the dimpled water slippeth, Full of laughter on its way, And her wing the wagtail dippeth, Running by the brink at play; When the poplar leaves atremble Turn their edges to the light, And the far-off clouds resemble Veils of gauze most clear and white; And the sunbeams fall and flatter Woodland moss and branches brown, And the glossy finches chatter Up and down, up and down: Though the heart be not attending, Having music of her own, On the grass, through meadows wending, It is sweet to walk alone.
Jean Ingelow.
* * * * *
MOONWORT.
There is a herb, some say, whose virtue's such It in the pasture, only with a touch, Unshods the new-shod steed.
Withers.
* * * * *
WOOD-PIGEON.
"Coo-pe-coo, Me and my poor two; Two sticks across, and a little bit of moss, And it will do, do, do."
Notts.
* * * * *
The pigeon never knoweth woe, Until abenting it doth go.
Old couplet.
* * * * *
If you scare the flycatcher away, No good luck with you will stay.
Somerset.
* * * * *
May 29th, yack-bob day.
Westmorland.
* * * * *
May, thou month of rosy beauty, Month when pleasure is a duty; Month of maids that milk the kine, Bosom rich, and breath divine; Month of bees, and month of flowers Month of blossom-laden bowers; Month of little hands with daisies, Lover's love, and poets' praises. Oh, thou merry month complete! May, thy very name is sweet.
Leigh Hunt.
* * * * *
A Medley of Weather Lore · The Wunder Library — complete classics, free to read, with narration.