Poem by Lesbia Harford

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Ay, ay, ay, the lilies of the garden
With red threads binding them and stars about,
These shall be her symbols, for she is high and holy,
Holy in her maidenhood and very full of doubt.
Ay, ay, ay, for she is very girlish
Fearful her heart's lilies should be stained by sin.
Yet will I bind them with rosy threads of passion.
Surely human passion has a right to enter in.

1. You, whom the grave cannot bind
2. I can't feel the sunshine
3. He had served eighty masters. They'd have said
4. I have golden shoes
5. I love to see

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