Sonnets and Poems. E-book. Formato PDF Eleanor Farjeon   -  Forgotten Books, 2017  - 

SonnetsMan cannot be a sophist to his heart,He must look nakedly on his intent,Expose it of all shreds of argument,id strip it like a slave^girl in the mart.What though with speckled truths and masked confessionsHe still deceives awhile the outer sense?At barely half his honesty's expenseStill earns the world's excuse for the world's transgressions?His conscience cannot play the marshland elf,Confusing that poor midnight wanderer,His soul, with floundering Tights and errant gleams.O what damnation man would deal himselfIf meeting her beyond his uttermost dreamsHe still could face his soul and lie to her.0 spare me from the hand of niggard loveThat grasps at interest on what it lends,And sets cold counsel as a guard aboveThe hoard it calculates before it spends.Such misers of the riches of the heartBear their untested treasure to the grave,And miss the whole, striving to save the part,By the bare measure they have striven to save.Is it for pride in saying at the end:See, Life! I spent not all that thou hast given —Lo, this and this and this I did not spend!I stinted earth of bliss to add to heaven.Alas, poor fools! life only gave ye thisBecause earth has such need of heavenly bliss.

Gypsy and Ginger. E-book. Formato PDF Eleanor Farjeon   -  Forgotten Books, 2017  - 

Therefore Ginger knew that the cottage had got to be hers. She went to the Pub to ask about it, and the Pub gave her shandygaff and cheese and said it belonged to the Blacksmith.

Martin Pippin in the Apple-Orchard. E-book. Formato PDF Eleanor Farjeon   -  Forgotten Books, 2017  - 

In Adversane in Sussex they still sing the song of The Spring-Green Lady; any fine evening, in the streets or in the meadows, you may come upon a band of children playing the old game that is their heritage, though few of them know its origin, or even that it had one. It is to them as the daisies in the grass and the stars in the sky. Of these things, and such as these, they ask no questions. But there you will still find one child who takes the part of the Emperor's Daughter, and another who is the Wandering Singer, and the remaining group (there should be no more than six in it) becomes the Spring-Green Lady, the Rose-White Lady, the Apple-Gold Lady, of the three parts of the game. Often there are more than six in the group, for the true number of the damsels who guarded their fellow in her prison is as forgotten as their names: Joscelyn, Jane, and Jennifer, Jessica, Joyce, and Joan. Forgotten, too, the name of Gillian, the lovely captive. And the Wandering Singer is to them but the Wandering Singer, not Martin Pippin the Minstrel. Worse and worse, he is even presumed to be the captive's sweetheart, who wheedles the flower, the ring, and the prison-key out of the strict virgins for his own purposes, and flies with her at last in his shallop across the sea, to live with her happily ever after. But this is a fallacy. Martin Pippin never wheedled anything out of anybody for his own purposes - in fact, he had none of his own.