Poems with rhymes of drying

And now on the brittle ground I'm lying,
Screaming to die with the dead year's dead;
The stem of the rose is black and drying,

Albert lay a-drying,
Lavishly arrayed,
With his soul out flying

For the thing that's flying.
Everywhere he turns,
Men to dust are drying, --

"Go on now wid yer blarney," said the widow softly sighing;
And she went to pull his whiskers, when dismay her bosom smote. . . .
Her ould red shawl! 'Twas missin' where she'd left it bravely drying -

Where split figs lay drying,
The girls took the frails under cover:
Nor use seemed in trying

To the mere forms of their sweet day-selves drying,
On heaven's blank leaf seem pressed and flatten-ed;
Or rather, to my sombre thoughts replying,

Under the 'spaliered pears, and were these lying
Nailed snug against the sunny bricks and drying

Six months of this drying,
Winifred will come back cured,
Let us hope, of crying.

Where split figs lay drying,
The girls took the frails under cover:
Nor use seemed in trying

She had used it for drying
Her bright eyes while crying,

Once I saw nature crying,
Over the barren field where it was drying.

Albert lay a-drying,
Lavishly arrayed,
With his soul out flying

Meine Frau, my betrayal, is dying.
My sun, in morning, isn't rising.
My stream, in bliss, is drying.

Of natural foliage, but bravely flying
Frank garlandry of last week's underwear
Out drying;

In the garden the laundry is drying
In the stove the meet is frying

In the garden the laundry is drying
In the stove the meet is frying

Just when your lips looked like drying,
Towards the Ganges I was flying...