| Song | A Thimbleful of Milk |
| Artist | Josephine Foster |
| Album | This Coming Gladness |
| 作曲 : Foster | |
| Come, come unto me | |
| My dear one oh my dove | |
| There is no spot on thee | |
| No blemish that i see | |
| Your teeth are flocks of sheep | |
| Abathed in camphire sweet | |
| Your lips are mine to greet | |
| Your tongue my sugared meat | |
| Sky so blue! | |
| Rivulating undulating summer shadows | |
| Stars are glittering lace easter bonnets | |
| Upon dew upon dew | |
| Set me as a seal upon your heart | |
| As a seal upon your brow | |
| For love defies our death | |
| Rerenders us somehow | |
| The bone that binds our brains | |
| Becomes a goblet deep | |
| Birds lay it on a bough | |
| And rock their eggs to sleep | |
| Sky so blue! | |
| Rivulating undulating summer shadows | |
| Stars are glittering lace easter bonnets | |
| Upon dew upon dew | |
| Come untie my knotted soul | |
| And loosen my bound feet | |
| Unbelt our girdled joy | |
| A joy not ours to keep | |
| Come trim your bearded bride | |
| I laugh at your brown hide | |
| As smooth as otter shells | |
| And softly ring your bells | |
| The navel shines of silk | |
| A thimbleful of milk |
| zuò qǔ : Foster | |
| Come, come unto me | |
| My dear one oh my dove | |
| There is no spot on thee | |
| No blemish that i see | |
| Your teeth are flocks of sheep | |
| Abathed in camphire sweet | |
| Your lips are mine to greet | |
| Your tongue my sugared meat | |
| Sky so blue! | |
| Rivulating undulating summer shadows | |
| Stars are glittering lace easter bonnets | |
| Upon dew upon dew | |
| Set me as a seal upon your heart | |
| As a seal upon your brow | |
| For love defies our death | |
| Rerenders us somehow | |
| The bone that binds our brains | |
| Becomes a goblet deep | |
| Birds lay it on a bough | |
| And rock their eggs to sleep | |
| Sky so blue! | |
| Rivulating undulating summer shadows | |
| Stars are glittering lace easter bonnets | |
| Upon dew upon dew | |
| Come untie my knotted soul | |
| And loosen my bound feet | |
| Unbelt our girdled joy | |
| A joy not ours to keep | |
| Come trim your bearded bride | |
| I laugh at your brown hide | |
| As smooth as otter shells | |
| And softly ring your bells | |
| The navel shines of silk | |
| A thimbleful of milk |