Water, Loo! water, Loo! fetch me some water! There isn't a drop for a mile and a quarter! The ground is so hard and the ground is so dry I'm frighten… - Eleanor Farjeon

He could not be captured, He could not be bought, His running was rhythm, His standing was thought; With one eye on sorrow And one eye on mirth, He galloped in heaven And gambolled on earth.<p> And only the poet With wings to his brain Can mount him and ride him Without any rein, The stallion of heaven, The steed of the skies, The horse of the singer Who sings as he flies.

Once she kissed me with a jest, Once with a tear — O where's the heart was in my breast, And the ring was in my ear?

Out upon you, Jerry! Jerry, you're a pity! Jerry, turn about and plant a garden in the City!