Contentions One throws milk on my clothes, What wanting signs are those? I cannot work nor sleep At all in season: Love wounds my heart so deep Without all reason I 'gin to pine away And all for that my dear Phillada flouts me. 699 Unknown "WHEN MOLLY SMILES" WHEN Molly smiles beneath her cow, What can I do? On worky days Good master curate, teach me how Unknown CONTENTIONS It was a lordling's daughter, the fairest one of three, Long was the combat doubtful that love with love did fight, Unto the silly damsel. But one must be refused: more mickle was the pain, Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day, Unknown "I ASKED MY FAIR, ONE HAPPY DAY" AFTER LESSING I ASKED my fair, one happy day, What I should call her in my lay; By what sweet name from Rome or Greece; Lalage, Neæra, Chloris, Sappho, Lesbia, or Doris, Arethusa or Lucrece. "Ah!" replied my gentle fair, “Beloved, what are names but air? Choose thou whatever suits the line; Call me Sappho, call me Chloris, Call me Lalage or Doris, Only-only call me thine." Samuel Taylor Coleridge [1772-1834] THE EXCHANGE WE pledged our hearts, my love and I,— I could not tell the reason why, "Green Grow the Rashes, O!" 701 Her father's love she bade me gain; We had exchanged our hearts indeed. Samuel Taylor Coleridge [1772-1834] "COMIN' THROUGH THE RYE" COMIN' through the rye, poor body, Comin' through the rye, She draiglet a' her petticoatie, Comin' through the rye. Oh Jenny's a' wat poor body, She draiglet a' her petticoatie, Gin a body meet a body, Gin a body meet a body Need the warld ken? Robert Burns [1759-1796] "GREEN GROW THE RASHES, O!" THERE'S naught but care on every han', Green grow the rashes, O! Are spent amang the lasses, O! The warl❜ly race may riches chase, An' though at last they catch them fast, Gie me a canny hour at e'en; For you sac douce, ye sneer at this; Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, Robert Burns [1759–1796] DEFIANCE CATCH her and hold her if you can- She reached the porch and closed the door? That girls and time will not return; Of each you should have made the most; Once gone, they are forever lost. In vain your knuckles knock your brow, Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864] "The Time I've Lost in Wooing" 703 OF CLEMENTINA IN Clementina's artless mien Lucilla asks, if that be all, Have I not culled as sweet before: Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall I still deplore. I now behold another scene, Where Pleasure beams with Heaven's own light, Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose, And Modesty who, when she goes, Is gone for ever. Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864] "THE TIME I'VE LOST IN WOOING" THE time I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. Though Wisdom oft has sought me, Were women's looks, And folly's all they taught me. Her smile when Beauty granted, |