CONTENTS
| MARCHING TO ZION | [9] |
| DUSKY RUTH | [29] |
| WEEP NOT MY WANTON | [45] |
| PIFFINGCAP | [53] |
| THE KING OF THE WORLD | [71] |
| ADAM AND EVE AND PINCH ME | [83] |
| THE PRINCESS OF KINGDOM GONE | [101] |
| COMMUNION | [111] |
| THE QUIET WOMAN | [119] |
| THE TRUMPETERS | [141] |
| THE ANGEL AND THE SWEEP | [151] |
| ARABESQUE | [163] |
| FELIX TINCLER | [175] |
| THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH | [191] |
| THE CHERRY TREE | [207] |
| CLORINDA WALKS IN HEAVEN | [215] |
| CRAVEN ARMS | [225] |
| COTTON | [267] |
| A BROADSHEET BALLAD | [283] |
| POMONA’S BABE | [295] |
| THE HURLY-BURLY | [319] |
MARCHING TO ZION
MARCHING TO ZION
In the great days that are gone I was walking the Journey upon its easy smiling roads and came one morning of windy spring to the side of a wood. I had but just rested to eat my crusts and suck a drink from the pool when a fat woman appeared and sat down before me. I gave her the grace of the morning.
“And how many miles is it now?” I asked of her.
“What!” said she, “you’re not going the journey?”