From Market.

Oh who'll give us Posies,
And Garlands of Roses,
To twine round our heads so gay?
For here we come bringing
You many good wishes to-day.
From market--from market--from market--
We all come up from market.

Kate Greenaway

Kate Greenaway was a renowned English Victorian artist and writer known for her children's book illustrations. Her work, characterized by quaint, nostalgic depictions of children and rural life, achieved remarkable popularity in the late 19th century. Greenaway's unique style, often inspired by Regency-era fashion, has had a lasting influence on children's literature and illustration.

Kate Greenaway

Under Rose Arches.

Kate Greenaway, Simple Poetry

Going To See Grandmamma.

Kate Greenaway, Simple Poetry

The Dancing Family.

Kate Greenaway, Simple Poetry

The Cats Have Come To Tea.

Kate Greenaway, Simple Poetry

English

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The Little Queen's Coming.

With Roses red Roses,
We'll pelt her with Roses,
And Lilies white Lilies we'll drop at her feet;
The little Queen's coming,
The people are running
The people are running to greet and to meet.

Then clash out a welcome,
Let all the bells sound, come,
To give her a welcoming proud and sweet.
How her blue eyes will beam,
And her golden curls gleam,
When the sound of our singing rings down the street.

Kate Greenaway

The Flowers

Buy my English posies!
Kent and Surrey may,
Violets of the Undercliff
Wet with Channel spray;
Cowslips from a Devon combe,
Midland furze afire,
Buy my English posies
And I'll sell your heart's desire!

Buy my English posies!
You that scorn the May,
Won't you greet a friend from home
Half the world away?
Green against the draggled drift,
Faint and frail but first,
Buy my Northern blood-root
And I'll know where you were nursed:
Robin down the logging-road whistles, "Come to me!"
Spring has found the maple-grove, the sap is running free.
All the winds of Canada call the ploughing-rain.
Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!

Buy my English posies!
Here's to match your need,
Buy a tuft of royal heath,

Rudyard

The Wedding Bells.

The Wedding Bells were ringing,
And Monday was the day,
And all the little ladies
Were there so fresh and gay.

And up up up the steps they went,
The wedding fine to see;
And the Roses were all for the Bride,
So pretty so pretty was she.

Kate Greenaway

O Come To The Meadows.

O come to the meadows! I'll show you where
    Primrose and violet blow,
And the hawthorn spreads its blossoms fair,
    White as the driven snow.
I'll show you where the daisies dot
    With silver stars the lea,
The orchis, and forget-me-not,
    The flower of memory!

The gold-cup and the meadow-sweet,
    That love the river's side,
The reed that bows the wave to meet,
    And sighs above the tide.
The stately flag that gaily rears
    Aloft its yellow crest,
The lily in whose cup the tears
    Of morn delight to rest.

The first in Nature's dainty wreath,
    We'll cull the brier-rose,
The crowfoot and the purple heath,
    And pink that sweetly blows.
The hare-bell with its airy flowers
    Shall deck my Laura's breast,...

Susanna Moodie

Under Rose Arches.

Under Rose Arches to Rose Town
Rose Town on the top of the hill;
For the Summer wind blows and music goes,
And the violins sound shrill.

Twist and twine Roses and Lilies,
And little leaves green,
Fit for a queen;
Twist and twine Roses and Lilies.

Oh, Roses shall be for her carpet,
And her curtains of Roses so fair;
And a Rosy crown, while far adown
Floats her long golden hair.

Twist and twine Roses and Lilies,
And all the bells ring,
And all the people sing;
Twist and twine Roses and Lilies.

Kate Greenaway

Clare Market

In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare
Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there;
That I take a delight on a Saturday night
In walking that way and in viewing the sight.
For it's here that one sees all the objects that please--
New patterns in silk and old patterns in cheese,
For the girls pretty toys, rude alarums for boys,
And baubles galore while discretion enjoys--
But here I forbear, for I really despair
Of naming the wealth of the market of Clare.

A rich man comes down from the elegant town
And looks at it all with an ominous frown;
He seems to despise the grandiloquent cries
Of the vender proclaiming his puddings and pies;
And sniffing he goes through the lanes that disclose
Much cause for disgust to his sensitive nose;
And free o...

Eugene Field