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diff --git a/3753.txt b/3753.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..101943e --- /dev/null +++ b/3753.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2615 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Peacock Pie, A Book of Rhymes, by Walter de la Mare + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Peacock Pie, A Book of Rhymes + +Author: Walter de la Mare + +Posting Date: May 13, 2009 [EBook #3753] +Release Date: February, 2003 +First Posted: August 21, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEACOCK PIE, A BOOK OF RHYMES *** + + + + +Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. + + + + + + + + + +PEACOCK PIE + +A Book of Rhymes + + +by + +Walter de la Mare + + + + + 'He told me his dreams. . .' + Isaac Watts + + + + +Table of Contents + + UP AND DOWN + The Horseman + Up and Down + Mrs. Earth + Alas, Alack + Tired Tim + Mima + The Huntsmen + The Bandog + I Can't Abear + The Dunce + Chicken + Some One + Bread and Cherries + Old Shellover + Hapless + The Little Bird + Cake and Sack + The Ship of Rio + Tillie + Jim Jay + Miss T. + The Cupboard + The Barber's + Hide and Seek + + BOYS AND GIRLS + Then + The Window + Poor Henry + Full Moon + The Bookworm + The Quartette + Mistletoe + The Lost Shoe + The Truants + + THREE QUEER TALES + Berries + Off the Ground + The Thief at Robin's Castle + + PLACES AND PEOPLE + A Widow's Weeds + 'Sooeep!' + Mrs. MacQueen + The Little Green Orchard + Poor Miss 7 + Sam + Andy Battle + The Old Soldier + The Picture + The Little Old Cupid + King David + The Old House + + BEASTS + Unstooping + All But Blind + Nicholas Nye + The Pigs and The Charcoal Burner + Five Eyes + Grim + Tit for Tat + Summer Evening + Earth Folk + + WITCHES AND FAIRIES + At the Keyhole + The Old Stone House + The Ruin + The Ride-by-Nights + Peak and Puke + The Changeling + The Mocking Fairy + Bewitched + The Honey Robbers + Longlegs + Melmillo + + EARTH AND AIR + Trees + Silver + Nobody Knows + Wanderers + Many a Mickle + Will Ever? + + SONGS + The Song of the Secret + The Song of Soldiers + The Bees' Song + A Song of Enchantment + Dream-Song + The Song of Shadows + The Song of the Mad prince + The Song of Finis + + + THE HORSEMAN + + I heard a horseman + Ride over the hill; + The moon shone clear, + The night was still; + His helm was silver, + And pale was he; + And the horse he rode + Was of ivory. + + + UP AND DOWN + + Down the Hill of Ludgate, + Up the Hill of Fleet, + To and fro and East and West + With people flows the street; + Even the King of England + On Temple Bar must beat + For leave to ride to Ludgate + Down the Hill of Fleet. + + + MRS. EARTH + + Mrs. Earth makes silver black, + Mrs. Earth makes iron red + But Mrs. Earth can not stain gold, + Nor ruby red. + Mrs. earth the slenderest bone + Whitens in her bosom cold, + But Mrs. Earth can change my dreams + No more than ruby or gold. + Mrs. Earth and Mr. Sun + Can tan my skin, and tire my toes, + But all that I'm thinking of, ever shall think, + Why, either knows. + + + ALAS, ALACK! + + Ann, Ann! + Come! Quick as you can! + There's a fish that talks + In the frying-pan. + Out of the fat, + As clear as glass, + He put up his mouth + And moaned 'Alas!' + Oh, most mournful, + 'Alas, alack!' + Then turned to his sizzling, + And sank him back. + + + TIRED TIM + + Poor Tired Tim! It's sad for him. + He lags the long bright morning through, + Ever so tired of nothing to do; + He moons and mopes the livelong day, + Nothing to think about, nothing to say; + Up to bed with his candle to creep, + Too tired to yawn, too tired to sleep: + Poor Tired Tim! It's sad for him. + + + MIMA + + Jemima is my name, + But oh, I have another; + My father always calls me Meg, + And so do Bob and mother; + Only my sister, jealous of + The strands of my bright hair, + 'Jemima - Mima - Mima!' + Calls, mocking, up the stair. + + + THE HUNTSMEN + + Three jolly gentlemen, + In coats of red, + Rode their horses + Up to bed. + + Three jolly gentlemen + Snored till morn, + Their horses champing + The golden corn. + + Three jolly gentlemen, + At break of day, + Came clitter-clatter down the stairs + And galloped away. + + + THE BANDOG + + Has anybody seen my Mopser? -- + A comely dog is he, + With hair of the colour of a Charles the Fifth, + And teeth like ships at sea, + His tail it curls straight upwards, + His ears stand two abreast, + And he answers to the simple name of Mopser + When civilly addressed. + + + I CAN'T ABEAR + + I can't abear a Butcher, + I can't abide his meat, + The ugliest shop of all is his, + The ugliest in the street; + Bakers' are warm, cobblers' dark, + Chemists' burn watery lights; + But oh, the sawdust butcher's shop, + That ugliest of sights! + + + THE DUNCE + + Why does he still keep ticking? + Why does his round white face + Stare at me over the books and ink, + And mock at my disgrace? + Why does that thrush call, 'Dunce, dunce, dunce!'? + Why does that bluebottle buzz? + Why does the sun so silent shine? -- + And what do I care if it does? + + + CHICKEN + + Clapping her platter stood plump Bess, + And all across the green + Came scampering in, on wing and claw, + Chicken fat and lean: + Dorking, Spaniard, Cochin China, + Bantams sleek and small, + Like feathers blown in a great wind, + They came at Bessie's call. + + + SOME ONE + + Some one came knocking + At my wee, small door; + Some one came knocking, + I'm sure - sure - sure; + I listened, I opened, + I looked to left and right, + But naught there was a-stirring + In the still dark night; + Only the busy beetle + Tap-tapping in the wall, + Only from the forest + The screech-owl's call, + Only the cricket whistling + While the dewdrops fall, + So I know not who came knocking, + At all, at all, at all. + + + BREAD AND CHERRIES + + 'Cherries, ripe cherries!' + The old woman cried, + In her snowy white apron, + And basket beside; + And the little boys came, + Eyes shining, cheeks red, + To buy a bag of cherries, + To eat with their bread. + + + OLD SHELLOVER + + 'Come!' said Old Shellover. + 'What?' says Creep. + 'The horny old Gardener's fast asleep; + The fat cock Thrush + To his nest has gone; + And the dew shines bright + In the rising Moon; + Old Sallie Worm from her hole doth peep: + Come!' said Old Shellover. + 'Aye!' said Creep. + + + HAPLESS + + Hapless, hapless, I must be + All the hours of life I see, + Since my foolish nurse did once + Bed me on her leggen bones; + Since my mother did not weel + To snip my nails with blades of steel. + Had they laid me on a pillow + In a cot of water willow, + Had they bitten finger and thumb, + Not to such ill hap I had come. + + + THE LITTLE BIRD + + My dear Daddie bought a mansion + For to bring my Mammie to, + In a hat with a long feather, + And a trailing gown of blue; + And a company of fiddlers + And a rout of maids and men + Danced the clock round to the morning, + In a gay house-warming then. + And when all the guests were gone, and + All was still as still can be, + In from the dark ivy hopped a + Wee small bird: and that was Me. + + + CAKE AND SACK + + Old King Caraway + Supped on cake, + And a cup of sack + His thirst to slake; + Bird in arras + And hound in hall + Watched very softly + Or not at all; + Fire in the middle, + Stone all round + Changed not, heeded not, + Made no sound; + All by himself + At the Table High + He'd nibble and sip + While his dreams slipped by; + And when he had finished, + He'd nod and say, + 'Cake and sack + For King Caraway!' + + + THE SHIP OF RIO + + There was a ship of Rio + Sailed out into the blue, + And nine and ninety monkeys + Were all her jovial crew. + From bo'sun to the cabin boy, + From quarter to caboose, + There weren't a stitch of calico + To breech 'em - tight or loose; + From spar to deck, from deck to keel, + From barnacle to shroud, + There weren't one pair of reach-me-downs + To all that jabbering crowd. + But wasn't it a gladsome sight, + When roared the deep sea gales, + To see them reef her fore and aft + A-swinging by their tails! + Oh, wasn't it a gladsome sight, + When glassy calm did come, + To see them squatting tailor-wise + Around a keg of rum! + Oh, wasn't it a gladsome sight, + When in she sailed to land, + To see them all a-scampering skip + For nuts across the sand! + + + TILLIE + + Old Tillie Turveycombe + Sat to sew, + Just where a patch of fern did grow; + There, as she yawned, + And yawn wide did she, + Floated some seed + Down her gull-e-t; + And look you once, + And look you twice, + Poor old Tillie + Was gone in a trice. + But oh, when the wind + Do a-moaning come, + 'Tis poor old Tillie + Sick for home; + And oh, when a voice + In the mist do sigh, + Old Tillie Turveycombe's + Floating by. + + + JIM JAY + + Do diddle di do, + Poor Jim Jay + Got stuck fast + In Yesterday. + Squinting he was, + On Cross-legs bent, + Never heeding + The wind was spent. + Round veered the weathercock, + The sun drew in - + And stuck was Jim + Like a rusty pin... + We pulled and we pulled + From seven till twelve, + Jim, too frightened + To help himself. + But all in vain. + The clock struck one, + And there was Jim + A little bit gone. + At half-past five + You scarce could see + A glimpse of his flapping + Handkerchee. + And when came noon, + And we climbed sky-high, + Jim was a speck + Slip - slipping by. + Come to-morrow, + The neighbours say, + He'll be past crying for; + Poor Jim Jay. + + + MISS T. + + It's a very odd thing ----- + As odd as can be --- + That whatever Miss T. eats + Turns into Miss T.; + Porridge and apples, + Mince, muffins and mutton, + Jam, junket, jumbles ---- + Not a rap, not a button + It matters; the moment + They're out of her plate, + Though shared by Miss Butcher + And sour Mr. Bate; + Tiny and cheerful, + And neat as can be, + Whatever Miss T. eats + Turns into Miss T. + + + THE CUPBOARD + + I know a little cupboard, + With a teeny tiny key, + And there's a jar of Lollypops + For me, me, me. + + It has a little shelf, my dear, + As dark as dark can be, + And there's a dish of Banbury Cakes + For me, me, me. + + I have a small fat grandmamma, + With a very slippery knee, + And she's the Keeper of the Cupboard + With the key, key, key. + + And I'm very good, my dear, + As good as good can be, + There's Branbury Cakes, and Lollypops + For me, me, me. + + + THE BARBER'S + + Gold locks, and black locks, + Red locks and brown, + Topknot to love-curl + The hair wisps down; + Straight above the clear eyes, + Rounded round the ears, + Snip-snap and snick-a-snick, + Clash the Barber's shears; + Us, in the looking-glass, + Footsteps in the street, + Over, under, to and fro, + The lean blades meet; + Bay Rum or Bear's Grease, + A silver groat to pay - + Then out a-shin-shan-shining + In the bright, blue day. + + + HIDE AND SEEK + + Hide and seek, says the Wind, + In the shade of the woods; + Hide and seek, says the Moon, + To the hazel buds; + Hide and seek, says the Cloud, + Star on to star; + Hide and seek, says the Wave, + At the harbour bar; + Hide and seek, say I, + To myself, and step + Out of the dream of Wake + Into the dream of Sleep. + + + BOYS AND GIRLS + + THEN + + Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty + A hundred years ago, + All through the night with lantern bright + The Watch trudged to and fro, + And little boys tucked snug abed + Would wake from dreams to hear - + 'Two o' the morning by the clock, + And the stars a-shining clear!' + Or, when across the chimney-tops + Screamed shrill a North-East gale, + A faint and shaken voice would shout, + 'Three! And a storm of hail!' + + + THE WINDOW + + Behind the blinds I sit and watch + The people passing - passing by; + And not a single one can see + My tiny watching eye. + + They cannot see my little room, + All yellowed with the shaded sun; + They do not even know I'm here; + Nor'll guess when I am gone. + + + POOR HENRY + + Thick in its glass + The physic stands, + Poor Henry lifts + Distracted hands; + His round cheek wans + In the candlelight, + To smell that smell! + To see that sight! + + Finger and thumb + Clinch his small nose, + A gurgle, a gasp, + And down it goes; + Scowls Henry now; + But mark that cheek, + Sleek with the bloom + Of health next week! + + + FULL MOON + + One night as Dick lay half asleep, + Into his drowsy eyes + A great still light begins to creep + From out the silent skies. + It was lovely moon's, for when + He raised his dreamy head, + Her surge of silver filled the pane + And streamed across his bed. + So, for a while, each gazed at each - + Dick and the solemn moon - + Till, climbing slowly on her way, + She vanished, and was gone. + + + THE BOOKWORM + + 'I'm tired - Oh, tired of books,' said Jack, + 'I long for meadows green, + And woods, where shadowy violets + Nod their cool leaves between; + I long to see the ploughman stride + His darkening acres o'er, + To hear the hoarse sea-waters drive + Their billows 'gainst the shore; + I long to watch the sea-mew wheel + Back to her rock-perched mate; + Or, where the breathing cows are housed, + Lean dreaming o'er the gate. + Something has gone, and ink and print + Will never bring it back; + I long for the green fields again, + I'm tired of books,' said Jack. + + + THE QUARTETTE + + Tom sang for joy and Ned sang for joy and old Sam sang for joy; + All we four boys piped up loud, just like one boy; + And the ladies that sate with the Squire - their cheeks were all wet, + For the noise of the voice of us boys, when we sang our Quartette. + + Tom he piped low and Ned he piped low and old Sam he piped low; + Into a sorrowful fall did our music flow; + And the ladies that sate with the Squire vowed they'd never forget + How the eyes of them cried for delight, when we sang our Quartette. + + + MISTLETOE + + Sitting under the mistletoe + (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), + One last candle burning low, + All the sleepy dancers gone, + Just one candle burning on, + Shadows lurking everywhere: + Some one came, and kissed me there. + + Tired I was; my head would go + Nodding under the mistletoe + (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), + No footsteps came, no voice, but only, + Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely, + Stooped in the still and shadowy air + Lips unseen - and kissed me there. + + + THE LOST SHOE + + Poor little Lucy + By some mischance, + Lost her shoe + As she did dance - + 'Twas not on the stairs, + Not in the hall; + Not where they sat + At supper at all. + She looked in the garden, + But there it was not; + Henhouse, or kennel, + Or high dovecote. + Dairy and meadow, + And wild woods through + Showed not a trace + Of Lucy's shoe. + Bird nor bunny + Nor glimmering moon + Breathed a whisper + Of where 'twas gone. + It was cried and cried, + Oyez and Oyez! + In French, Dutch, Latin, + And Portuguese. + Ships the dark seas + Went plunging through, + But none brought news + Of Lucy's shoe; + And still she patters + In silk and leather, + O'er snow, sand, shingle, + In every weather; + Spain, and Africa, + Hindustan, + Java, China, + And lamped Japan; + Plain and desert, + She hops-hops through, + Pernambuco + To gold Peru; + Mountain and forest, + And river too, + All the world over + For her lost shoe. + + + THE TRUANTS + + Ere my heart beats too coldly and faintly + To remember sad things, yet be gay, + I would sing a brief song of the world's little children + Magic hath stolen away. + + The primroses scattered by April, + The stars of the wide Milky Way, + Cannot outnumber the hosts of the children + Magic hath stolen away. + + The buttercup green of the meadows, + The snow of the blossoming may, + Lovelier are not than the legions of children + Magic hath stolen away. + + The waves tossing surf in the moonbeam, + The albatross lone on the spray, + Alone know the tears wept in vain for the children + Magic hath stolen away. + + In vain: for at hush of the evening, + When the stars twinkle into the grey, + Seems to echo the far-away calling of children + Magic hath stolen away. + + + THREE QUEER TALES + + + BERRIES + + There was an old woman + Went blackberry picking + Along the hedges + From Weep to Wicking. - + Half a pottle- + No more she had got, + When out steps a Fairy + From her green grot; + And says, 'Well, Jill, + Would 'ee pick ee mo?' + And Jill, she curtseys, + And looks just so. + Be off,' says the Fairy, + 'As quick as you can, + Over the meadows + To the little green lane + That dips to the hayfields + Of Farmer Grimes: + I've berried those hedges + A score of times; + Bushel on bushel + I'll promise'ee, Jill, + This side of supper + If'ee pick with a will.' + She glints very bright, + And speaks her fair; + Then lo, and behold! + She had faded in air. + + Be sure Old Goodie + She trots betimes + Over the meadows + To Farmer Grimes. + And never was queen + With jewelry rich + As those same hedges + From twig to ditch; + Like Dutchmen's coffers, + Fruit, thorn, and flower - + They shone like William + And Mary's bower. + And be sure Old Goodie + Went back to Weep, + So tired with her basket + She scarce could creep. + + When she comes in the dusk + To her cottage door, + There's Towser wagging + As never before, + To see his Missus + So glad to be + Come from her fruit-picking + Back to he. + As soon as next morning + Dawn was grey, + The pot on the hob + Was simmering away; + And all in a stew + And a hugger-mugger + Towser and Jill + A-boiling of sugar, + And the dark clear fruit + That from Faerie came, + For syrup and jelly + And blackberry jam. + + Twelve jolly gallipots + Jill put by; + And one little teeny one, + One inch high; + And that she's hidden + A good thumb deep, + Half way over + From Wicking to Weep. + + + OFF THE GROUND + + Three jolly Farmers + Once bet a pound + Each dance the others would + Off the ground. + Out of their coats + They slipped right soon, + And neat and nicesome, + Put each his shoon. + One - Two - Three! - + And away they go, + Not too fast, + And not too slow; + Out from the elm-tree's + Noonday shadow, + Into the sun + And across the meadow. + Past the schoolroom, + With knees well bent + Fingers a-flicking, + They dancing went. + Up sides and over, + And round and round, + They crossed click-clacking, + The Parish bound, + By Tupman's meadow + They did their mile, + Tee-t-tum + On a three-barred stile. + Then straight through Whipham, + Downhill to Week, + Footing it lightsome, + But not too quick, + Up fields to Watchet, + And on through Wye, + Till seven fine churches + They'd seen skip by - + Seven fine churches, + And five old mills, + Farms in the valley, + And sheep on the hills; + Old Man's Acre + And Dead Man's Pool + All left behind, + As they danced through Wool. + And Wool gone by, + Like tops that seem + To spin in sleep + They danced in dream; + Withy - Wellover - + Wassop-Wo- + Like an old clock + Their heels did go. + A league and a league + And a league they went, + And not one weary, + And not one spent. + And Io, and behold! + Past Willow-cum-Leigh + Stretched with its waters + The great green sea. + Says Farmer Bates, + I puffs and I blows, + What's under the water, + Why, no man knows!' + Says Farmer Giles, + 'My wind comes weak, + And a good man drownded + Is far to seek.' + But Farmer Turvey, + On twirling toes + Up's with his gaiters, + And in he goes: + Down where the mermaids + Pluck and play + On their twangling harps + In a sea-green day; + Down where the mermaids, + Finned and fair, + Sleek with their combs + Their yellow hair.... + Bates and Giles- + On the shingle sat, + Gazing at Turvey's + Floating hat. + But never a ripple + Nor bubble told + Where he was supping + Off plates of gold. + Never an echo + Rilled through the sea + Of the feasting and dancing + And minstrelsy. + They called-called-called: + Came no reply: + Nought but the ripples' + Sandy sigh. + Then glum and silent + They sat instead, + Vacantly brooding + On home and bed, + Till both together + Stood up and said.- + 'Us knows not, dreams not, + Where you be, + Turvey, unless + In the deep blue sea; + But axcusing silver- + And it comes most willing - + Here's us two paying + Our forty shilling; + For it's sartin sure, Turvey, + Safe and sound, + You danced us square, Turvey, + Off the ground!' + + + THE THIEF AT ROBIN'S CASTLE + + There came a Thief one night to Robin's Castle, + He climbed up into a Tree; + And sitting with his head among the branches, + A wondrous Sight did see. + + For there was Robin supping at his table, + With Candles of pure Wax, + His Dame and his two beauteous little Children, + With Velvet on their backs. + + Platters for each there were shin-shining, + Of Silver many a pound, + And all of beaten Gold, three brimming Goblets, + Standing the table round. + + The smell that rose up richly from the Baked Meats + Came thinning amid the boughs, + And much that greedy Thief who snuffed the night air- + His Hunger did arouse. + + He watched them eating, drinking, laughing, talking, + Busy with finger and spoon, + While three most cunning Fiddlers, clad in crimson, + Played them a supper-tune. + + And he waited in the tree-top like a Starling, + Till the Moon was gotten low; + When all the windows in the walls were darkened, + He softly in did go. + + There Robin and his Dame in bed were sleeping, + And his Children young and fair; + Only Robin's Hounds from their warm kennels + Yelped as he climbed the stair. + + All, all were sleeping, page and fiddler, + Cook, scullion, free from care; + Only Robin's Stallions from their stables + Neighed as he climbed the stair. + + A wee wan light the Moon did shed him, + Hanging above the sea, + And he counted into his bag (of beaten Silver) + Platters thirty-three. + + Of Spoons three score; of jolly golden Goblets + He stowed in four save one, + And six fine three-branched Cupid Candlesticks, + Before his work was done. + + Nine bulging bags of Money in a cupboard, + Two Snuffers, and a Dish + He found, the last all studded with great Garnets + And shapen like a Fish. + + Then tiptoe up he stole into a Chamber, + Where on Tasselled Pillows lay + Robin and his Daule in dreaming slumbers + Tired with the summer's day. + + That Thief he mimbled round him in the gloaming, + Their treasure for to spy, + Combs, Brooches, Chains, and, Rings, and Pins and Buckles + All higgledy, Piggle-dy. + + A Watch shaped in the shape of a flat Apple + In purest crystal set + He lifted from the hook where it was ticking + And crammed in his Pochette. + + He heaped the pretty Baubles on the table, + Trinketsi Knick-knackerie, + Pearls, Diamonds, Sapphires, Topazes, and Opals- + All in his bag put he. + + And there in night's pale Gloom was Robin dreaming + He was hunting the mountain Bear, + While his Dame in peaceful slumber in no wise heeded + A greedy Thief was there. + + And that ravenous Thief he climbed up even higher, + Till into a chamber small + He crept where lay poor Robin's beauteous Children, + Lovelier in sleep withal. + + Oh, fairer was their Hair than Gold of Goblet, + 'Yond Silver their Cheeks did shine, + And their little hands that lay upon the linen + Made that Thief's hard heart to pine. + + But though a moment there his hard heart faltered, + Eftsoones be took them twain, + And slipped them into his Bag with all his Plunder, + And soft stole down again. + + Spoon, Platter, Goblet, Ducats, Dishes, Trinkets, + And those two Children dear, + A-quaking in the clinking and the clanking, + And half bemused with fear, + + He carried down the stairs into the Courtyard, + But there he made no stay, + He just tied up his Garters, took a deep breath, + And ran like the wind away. + + Past Forest, River, Mountain, River, Forest- + He coursed the whole night through, + Till morning found him come into a Country, + Where none his bad face knew. + + Past Mountain, River, Forest, River, Mountain- + That Thief's lean shanks sped on, + Till Evening found him knocking at a Dark House, + His breath now well-nigh gone. + + There came a little maid and asked his Business; + A Cobbler dwelt within; + And though she much misliked the Bag he carried, + She led the Bad Man in. + + He bargained with the Cobbler for a lodging + And soft laid down his Sack- + In the Dead of Night, with none to spy or listen- + From off his weary back. + + And he taught the little Chicks to call him Father, + And he sold his stolen Pelf, + And bought a Palace, Horses, Slaves, and Peacocks + To ease his wicked self. + + And though the Children never really loved him, + He was rich past all belief; + While Robin and his Dame o'er Delf and Pewter + Spent all their Days in Grief. + + + PLACES AND PEOPLE + + + A WIDOW'S WEEDS + + A poor old Widow in her weeds + Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds; + Not too shallow, and not too deep, + And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip. + Up shone May, like gold, and soon + Green as an arbour grew leafy June. + And now all summer she sits and sews + Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows, + Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet, + Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit; + Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells; + Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells; + Like Oberon's meadows her garden is + Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees. + Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs, + And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes; + And all she has is all she needs -- + A poor Old Widow in her weeds. + + + 'SOOEEP!' + + Black as a chimney is his face, + And ivory white his teeth, + And in his brass-bound cart he rides, + The chestnut blooms beneath. + + 'Sooeep, Sooeep!' he cries, and brightly peers + This way and that, to see + With his two light-blue shining eyes + What custom there may be. + + And once inside the house, he'll squat, + And drive his rods on high, + Till twirls his sudden sooty brush + Against the morning sky. + + Then, 'mid his bulging bags of soot, + With half the world asleep, + His small cart wheels him off again, + Still hoarsely bawling, 'Sooeep!' + + + MRS. MACQUEEN (OR THE LOLLIE-SHOP) + + With glass like a bull's-eye, + And shutters of green, + Down on the cobbles + Lives Mrs. MacQueen, + + At six she rises; + At nine you see + Her candle shine out + In the linden tree: + + And at half-past nine + Not a sound is nigh + But the bright moon's creeping + Across the sky; + + Or a far dog baying; + Or a twittering bird + In its drowsy nest, + In the darkness stirred; + + Or like the roar + Of a distant sea + A long-drawn S-s-sh + In the linden tree. + + + THE LITTLE GREEN ORCHARD + + Some one is always sitting there, + In the little green orchard; + Even when the sun is high + In noon's unclouded sky, + And faintly droning goes + The bee from rose to rose, + Some one in shadow is sitting there + In the little green orchard. + + Yes, when the twilight's falling softly + In the little green orchard; + When the grey dew distills + And every flower-cup fills; + When the last blackbird says, + 'What - what!' and goes her way - ssh! + I have heard voices calling softly + In the little green orchard + + Not that I am afraid of being there, + In the little green orchard; + Why, when the moon's been bright, + Shedding her lonesome light, + And moths like ghosties come, + And the horned snail leaves home: + I've sat there, whispering and listening there, + In the little green orchard. + + Only it's strange to be feeling there, + In the little green orchard; + Whether you paint or draw, + Dig, hammer, chop or saw; + When you are most alone, + All but the silence gone... + Some one is watching and waiting there, + In the little green orchard. + + + POOR 'MISS 7' + + Lone and alone she lies, + Poor Miss 7, + Five steep flights from the earth, + And one from heaven; + Dark hair and dark brown eyes, - + Not to be sad she tries, + Still - still it's lonely lies + Poor Miss 7. + + One day-long watch hath she, + Poor Miss 7, + Not in some orchard sweet + In April Devon - + Just four blank walls to see, + And dark come shadowily, + No moon, no stars, ah me! + Poor Miss 7. + + And then to wake again, + Poor Miss 7, + To the cold night, to have + Sour physic given; + Out of some dream of pain, + Then strive long hours in vain + Deep dreamless sleep to gain: + Poor Miss 7. + + Yet memory softly sings + Poor Miss 7 + Songs full of love and peace + And gladness even; + Clear flowers and tiny wings, + All tender, lovely things, + Hope to her bosom brings - + Happy Miss 7. + + + SAM + + When Sam goes back in memory, + It is to where the sea + Breaks on the shingle, emerald-green, + In white foam, endlessly; + He says - with small brown eye on mine- + 'I used to keep awake, + And lean from my window in the moon, + Watching those billows break. + And half a million tiny hands, + And eyes, like sparks of frost, + Would dance and come tumbling into the moon, + On every breaker tossed. + And all across from star to star, + I've seen the watery sea, + With not a single ship in sight, + Just ocean there, and me; + And heard my father snore. And once, + As sure as I'm alive, + Out of those wallowing, moon-flecked waves + I saw a mermaid dive; + Head and shoulders above the wave, + Plain as I now see you, + Combing her hair, now back, now front, + Her two eyes peeping through; + Calling me, 'Sam!' -quietlike- 'Sam!'... + But me .... I never went, + Making believe I kind of thought + 'Twas some one else she meant.... + Wonderful lovely there she sat, + Singing the night away, + All in the solitudinous sea + Of that there lonely bay. + + P'raps,' and he'd smooth his hairless mouth, + 'P'raps, if 'twere now, my son, + Praps, if I heard a voice say, 'Sam!'... + Morning would find we gone.' + + + ANDY BATTLE + + Once and there was a young sailor, yeo ho! + And he sailed out over the say + For the isles where pink coral and palm branches blow, + And the fire-flies turn night into day, + Yeo ho! + And the fire-flies turn night into day. + + But the Dolphin went down in a tempest, yeo ho! + And with three forsook sailors ashore, + The portingales took him wh'ere sugar-canes grow, + Their slave for to be evermore, + Yeo ho! + Their slave for to be evermore. + + With his musket for mother and brother, yeo ho! + He warred with the Cannibals drear, + in forests where panthers pad soft to and fro, + And the Pongo shakes noonday with fear, + Yeo ho! + And the Pongo shakes noonday with fear. + + Now lean with long travail, all wasted with woe, + With a monkey for messmate and friend, + He sits 'neath the Cross in the cankering snow, + And waites for his sorrowful end, + Yeo ho! + And waits for his sorrowful end. + + + THE OLD SOLDIER + + There came an Old Soldier to my door, + Asked a crust, and asked no more; + The wars had thinned him very bare, + Fighting and marching everywhere, + With a Fol rol dol rol di do. + + With nose stuck out, and cheek sunk in, + A bristling beard upon his chin - + Powder and bullets and wounds and drums + Had come to that Soldier as suchlike comes - + With a Fol rol dol rol di do. + + 'Twas sweet and fresh with buds of May, + Flowers springing from every spray; + And when he had supped the Old Soldier trolled + The song of youth that never grows old, + Called Fol rol dol rol di do. + + Most of him rags, and all of him lean, + And the belt round his belly drawn tightsome in + He lifted his peaked old grizzled head, + And these were the very same words he said- + A Fol-rol-dol-rol-di-do. + + + THE PICTURE + + Here is a sea-legged sailor, + Come to this tottering Inn, + Just when the bronze on its signboard is fading, + And the black shades of evening begin. + + With his head on thick paws sleeps a sheep-dog, + There stoops the Shepherd, and see, + All follow-my-leader the ducks waddle homeward, + Under the sycamore tree. + + Very brown is the face of the Sailor, + His bundle is crimson, and green + Are the thick leafy boughs that hang dense o'er the Tavern, + And blue the far meadows between. + + But the Crust, Ale and Cheese of the Sailor, + His Mug and his platter of Delf, + And the crescent to light home the Shepherd and Sheep-dog + The painter has kept to himself. + + + THE LITTLE OLD CUPID + + 'Twas a very small garden; + The paths were of stone, + Scattered with leaves, + With moss overgrown; + And a little old Cupid + Stood under a tree, + With a small broken bow + He stood aiming at me. + + The dog-rose in briars + Hung over the weeds, + The air was aflock + With the floating of seed, + And a little old Cupid + Stood under a tree, + With a small broken bow + He stood aiming at me. + + The dovecote was tumbling, + The fountain dry, + A wind in the orchard + Went whispering by; + And a little old Cupid + Stood under a tree, + With a small broken bow + He stood aiming at me. + + + KING DAVID + + King David was a sorrowful man: + No cause for his sorrow had he; + And he called for the music of a hundred harps, + To ease his melancholy. + + They played till they all fell silent: + Played-and play sweet did they; + But the sorrow that haunted the heart of King David + They could not charm away. + + He rose; and in his garden + Walked by the moon alone, + A nightingale hidden in a cypress-tree + Jargoned on and on. + + King David lifted his sad eyes + Into the dark-boughed tree- + ''Tell me, thou little bird that singest, + Who taught my grief to thee?' + + But the bird in no wise heeded + And the king in the cool of the moon + Hearkened to the nightingale's sorrowfulness, + Till all his own was gone. + + + THE OLD HOUSE + + A very, very old house I know- + And ever so many people go, + Past the small lodge, forlorn and still, + Under the heavy branches, till + Comes the blank wall, and there's the door. + Go in they do; come out no more. + No voice says aught; no spark of light + Across that threshold cheers the sight; + Only the evening star on high + Less lonely makes a lonely sky, + As, one by one, the people go + Into that very old house I know. + + + BEASTS + + UNSTOOPING + + Low on his fours the Lion + Treads with the surly Bear', + But Men straight upward from the dust + Walk with their heads in air; + The free sweet winds of heaven, + The sunlight from on high + Beat on their clear bright cheeks and brows + As they go striding by; + The doors of all their houses + They arch so they may go, + Uplifted o'er the four-foot beasts, + Unstooping, to and fro. + + + ALL BUT BLIND + + All but blind + In his cambered hole + Gropes for worms + The four-clawed Mole. + + All but blind + In the evening sky + The hooded Bat + Twirls softly by. + + All but blind + In the burning day + The Barn-Owl blunders + On her way. + + And blind as are + These three to me, + So blind to someone + I must be. + + + NICHOLAS NYE + + Thistle and darnell and dock grew there, + And a bush, in the corner, of may, + On the orchard wall I used to sprawl + In the blazing heat of the day; + Half asleep and half awake, + While the birds went twittering by, + And nobody there my lone to share + But Nicholas Nye. + + Nicholas Nye was lean and gray, + Lame of leg and old, + More than a score of donkey's years + He had been since he was foaled; + He munched the thistles, purple and spiked, + Would sometimes stoop and sigh, + And turn to his head, as if he said, + "Poor Nicholas Nye!" + + Alone with his shadow he'd drowse in the meadow, + Lazily swinging his tail, + At break of day he used to bray,-- + Not much too hearty and hale; + But a wonderful gumption was under his skin, + And a clean calm light in his eye, + And once in a while; he'd smile:-- + Would Nicholas Nye. + + Seem to be smiling at me, he would, + From his bush in the corner, of may,-- + Bony and ownerless, widowed and worn, + Knobble-kneed, lonely and gray; + And over the grass would seem to pass + 'Neath the deep dark blue of the sky, + Something much better than words between me + And Nicholas Nye. + + But dusk would come in the apple boughs, + The green of the glow-worm shine, + The birds in nest would crouch to rest, + And home I'd trudge to mine; + And there, in the moonlight, dark with dew, + Asking not wherefore nor why, + Would brood like a ghost, and as still as a post, + Old Nicholas Nye. + + + THE PIGS AND THE CHARCOAL - BURNER + + The old Pig said to the little pigs, + 'In the forest is truffles and mast, + Follow me then, all ye little pigs, + Follow me fast!' + + The Charcoal-burner sat in the shade + With his chin on his thumb, + And saw the big Pig and the little pigs, + Chuffling come. + + He watched 'neath a green and giant bough, + And the pigs in the ground + Made a wonderful grizzling and gruzzling + And a greedy sound. + + And when, full-fed they were gone, and Night + Walked her starry ways, + He stared with his cheeks in his hands + At his sullen blaze. + + + FIVE EYES + + In Hans' old Mill his three black cats + Watch the bins for the thieving rats. + Whisker and claw, they crouch in the night, + Their five eyes smouldering green and bright: + Squeaks from the flour sacks, squeaks from where + The cold wind stirs on the empty stair, + Squeaking and scampering, everywhere. + Then down they pounce, now in, now out, + At whisking tail, and sniffing snout; + While lean old Hans he snores away + Till peep of light at break of day; + Then up he climbs to his creaking mill, + Out come his cats all grey with meal -- + Jekkel, and Jessup, and one-eyed Jill. + + + GRIM + + Beside the blaze of forty fires + Giant Grim doth sit, + Roasting a thick-woolled mountain sheep + Upon an iron spit. + Above him wheels the winter sky, + Beneath him, fathoms deep, + Lies hidden in the valley mists + A village fast asleep --- + Save for one restive hungry dog + That, snuffing towards the height, + Smells Grim's broiled supper-meat, and spies + His watch-fire twinkling bright. + + + TIT FOR TAT + + Have you been catching of fish, Tom Noddy? + Have you snared a weeping hare? + Have you whistled, 'No Nunny,'and gunned a poor + bunny, + Or a blinded bird of the air? + + Have you trod like a murderer through the green + woods, + Through the dewy deep dingles and glooms, + While every small creature screamed shrill to Dame + Nature, + 'He comes --and he comes!'? + + Wonder I very much do, Tom Noddy, + If ever, when you are a-roam, + An Ogre from space will stoop a lean face + And lug you home: + + Lug you home over his fence, Tom Noddy, + Of thorn-sticks nine yards high, + With your bent knees strung round his old iron gun + And your head dan-dangling by: + + And hang you up stiff on a hook, Tom Noddy, + From a stone-cold pantry shelf, + Whence your eyes will glare in an empty stare, + Till you're cooked yourself! + + + SUMMER EVENING + + The sandy cat by the Farmer's chair + Mews at his knee for dainty fare; + Old Rover in his moss-greened house + Mumbles a bone, and barks at a mouse + In the dewy fields the cattle lie + Chewing the cud 'neath a fading sky + Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: + Gone is another summer's day. + + + EARTH FOLK + + The cat she walks on padded claws, + The wolf on the hills lays stealthy paws, + Feathered birds in the rain-sweet sky + At their ease in the air, flit low, flit high. + + The oak's blind, tender roots pierce deep, + His green crest towers, dimmed in sleep, + Under the stars whose thrones are set + Where never prince hath journeyed yet. + + + WITCHES AND FAIRIES + + + AT THE KEYHOLE + + 'Grill me some bones,' said the Cobbler, + 'Some bones, my pretty Sue; + I'm tired of my lonesome with heels and soles, + Springsides and uppers too; + A mouse in the wainscot is nibbling; + A wind in the keyhole drones; + And a sheet webbed over my candle, Susie, --- + Grill me some bones!' + + 'Grill me some bones,' said the Cobbler, + I sat at my tic-tac-to; + And a footstep came to my door and stopped, + And a hand groped to and fro; + And I peered up over my boot and last; + And my feet went cold as stones: + I saw an eye at the keyhole, Susie! --- + Grill me some bones!' + + THE OLD STONE HOUSE + + Nothing on the grey roof, nothing on the brown, + Only a little greening where the rain drips down; + Nobody at the window, nobody at the door, + Only a little hollow which a foot once wore; + But still I tread on tiptoe, still tiptoe on I go, + Past nettles, porch, and weedy well, for oh, I know + A friendless face is peering, and a still clear eye + Peeps closely through the casement + as my step goes by. + + THE RUIN + + When the last colours of the day + Have from their burning ebbed away, + About that ruin, cold and lone, + The cricket shrills from stone to stone; + And scattering o'er its darkened green, + Bands of the fairies may be seen, + Chattering like grasshoppers, their feet + Dancing a thistledown dance round it: + While the great gold of the mild moon + Tinges their tiny acorn shoon. + + + THE RIDE-BY-NIGHTS + + Up on their brooms the Witches stream, + Crooked and black in the crescent's gleam; + One foot high, and one foot low, + Bearded, cloaked, and cowled, they go, + 'Neath Charlie's Wain they twitter and tweet, + And away they swarm 'neath the Dragon's feet, + With a whoop and a flutter they swing and sway, + And surge pell-mell down the Milky Way. + Betwixt the legs of the glittering Chair + They hover and squeak in the empty air. + Then round they swoop past the glimmering Lion + To where Sirius barks behind huge Orion; + Up, then, and over to wheel amain, + Under the silver, and home again. + + + + PEAK AND PUKE + + From his cradle in the glamourie + They have stolen my wee brother, + Housed a changeling in his swaddlings + For to fret my own poor mother. + Pules it in the candle light + Wi' a cheek so lean and white, + Chinkling up its eyne so wee + Wailing shrill at her an' me. + It we'll neither rock nor tend + Till the Silent Silent send, + Lapping in their awesome arms + Him they stole with spells and charms, + Till they take this changeling creature + Back to its own fairy nature -- + Cry! Cry! As long as may be, + Ye shall ne'er be woman's baby! + + + THE CHANGELING + + 'Ahoy, and ahoy!' + 'Twixt mocking and merry -- + 'Ahoy and ahoy, there, + Young man of the ferry!' + + She stood on the steps + In the watery gloom --- + That Changeling --'Ahoy, there!' + She called him to come. + He came on the green wave, + He came on the grey, + Where stooped that sweet lady + That still summer's day. + He fell in a dream + Of her beautiful face, + As she sat on the thwart + And smiled in her place. + + No echo his oar woke, + Float silent did they, + Past low-grazing cattle + In the sweet of the hay. + And still in a dream + At her beauty sat he, + Drifting stern foremost + Down -- down to the sea. + + Come you, then: call, + When the twilight apace + Brings shadow to brood + On the loveliest face; + You shall hear o'er the water + Ring faint in the grey --- + 'Ahoy, and ahoy, there!' + And tremble away; + 'Ahoy, and ahoy!...' + And tremble away. + + + THE MOCKING FAIRY + + 'Won't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?' + Quoth the Fairy, niddling, nodding in the garden; + 'Can't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?' + Quoth the Fairy, laughing softly in the garden; + But the air was still, the cherry boughs were still, + And the ivy-tod 'neath the empty sill, + And never from her window looked out Mrs. Gill + On the Fairy shrilly mocking in the garden. + + 'What have they done with you, you poor Mrs. Gill?' + Quoth the Fairy brightly glancing in the garden; + 'Where have they hidden you, you poor old Mrs. Gill?' + Quoth the Fairy dancing lightly in the garden; + + But night's faint veil now wrapped the hill, + Stark 'neath the stars stood the dead-still Mill, + And out of her cold cottage never answered Mrs. Gill + The Fairy mimbling, mambling in the garden. + + + BEWITCHED + + I have heard a lady this night, + Lissom and jimp and slim, + Calling me -- calling me over the heather, + 'Neath the beech boughs dusk and dim. + + I have followed a lady this night, + Followed her far and lone, + Fox and adder and weasel know + The ways that we have gone. + + I sit at my supper 'mid honest faces, + And crumble my crust and say + Naught in the long-drawn drawl of the voices + Talking the hours away. + + I'll go to my chamber under the gable, + And the moon will lift her light + In at my lattice from over the moorland + Hollow and still and bright. + + And I know she will shine on a lady of witchcraft, + Gladness and grief to see, + Who has taken my heart with her nimble fingers, + Calls in my dreams to me; + + Who has led me a dance by dell and dingle + My human soul to win, + Made me a changeling to my own, own mother, + A stranger to my kin. + + + THE HONEY ROBBERS + + There were two Fairies, Gimmul and Mel, + Loved Earth Man's honey passing well; + Oft at the hives of his tame bees + They would their sugary thirst appease. + + When dusk began to darken to night, + They would hie along in the fading light, + With elf-locked hair and scarlet lips, + And small stone knives to slit the skeps, + So softly not a bee inside + Should hear the woven straw divide: + And then with sly and greedy thumbs + Would rifle the sweet honeycombs. + + And drowsily drone to drone would say, + 'A cold, cold wind blows in this way'; + And the great Queen would turn her head + From face to face, astonished, + And, though her maids with comb and brush + Would comb and soothe and whisper, 'Hush!' + About the hive would shrilly go + A keening -- keening, to and fro; + At which those robbers 'neath the trees + Would taunt and mock the honey-bees, + And through their sticky teeth would buzz + Just as an angry hornet does. + + And when this Gimmul and this Mel + Had munched and sucked and swilled their fill, + Or ever Man's first cock could crow + Back to their Faerie Mounds they'd go; + Edging across the twilight air, + Thieves of a guise remotely fair. + + + LONGLEGS + + Longlegs -- he yelled 'Coo-ee!' + And all across the combe + Shrill and shrill it rang -- rang through + The clear green gloom. + Fairies there were a-spinning, + And a white tree-maid + Lifted her eyes, and listened + In her rain-sweet glade. + Bunnie to bunnie stamped; old Wat + Chin-deep in bracken sate; + A throstle piped, 'I'm by, I'm by!' + Clear to his timid mate. + And there was Longlegs, straddling, + And hearkening was he, + To distant Echo thrilling back + A thin 'Coo-ee!' + + + MELMILLO + + Three and thirty birds there stood + In an elder in a wood; + Called Melmillo -- flew off three, + Leaving thirty in the tree; + Called Melmillo -- nine now gone, + And the boughs held twenty-one; + Called Melmillo -- and eighteen + Left but three to nod and preen; + Called Melmillo -- three -- two -- one + Now of birds were feathers none. + + Then stole Melmillo in + To that wood all dusk and green, + And with lean long palms outspread + Softly a strange dance did tread; + Not a note of music she + Had for echoing company; + All the birds were flown to rest + In the hollow of her breast; + In the wood -- thorn, elder, willow -- + Danced alone -- lone danced Melmillo. + + + EARTH AND AIR + + + TREES + + Of all the trees in England, + Her sweet three corners in, + Only the Ash, the bonnie Ash + Burns fierce while it is green. + + Of all the trees in England, + From sea to sea again, + The Willow loveliest stoops her boughs + Beneath the driving rain. + + Of all the trees in England, + Past frankincense and myrrh, + There's none for smell, of bloom and smoke, + Like Lime and Juniper. + + Of all the trees in England, + Oak, Elder, Elm and Thorn, + The Yew alone burns lamps of peace + For them that lie forlorn. + + + SILVER + + Slowly, silently, now the moon + Walks the night in her silver shoon: + This way, and that, she peers and sees + Silver fruit upon silver trees; + One by one the casements catch + Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; + Couched in his kennel, like a log, + With paws of silver sleeps the dog + From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep + Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep; + A harvest mouse goes scampering by, + With silver claws and silver eye; + And moveless fish in the water gleam + By silver reeds in a silver stream. + + + NOBODY KNOWS + + Often I've heard the Wind sigh + By the ivied orchard wall, + Over the leaves in the dark night, + Breathe a sighing call, + And faint away in the silence + While I, in my bed, + Wondered, 'twixt dreaming and waking, + What it said. + + Nobody knows what the Wind is, + Under the height of the sky, + Where the hosts of the stars keep far away house + And its wave sweeps by -- + Just a great wave of the air, + Tossing the leaves in its sea, + And foaming under the eaves of the roof + That covers me. + + And so we live under deep water, + All of us, beasts and men, + And our bodies are buried down under the sand, + When we go again; + And leave, like the fishes, our shells, + And float on the Wind and away, + To where, o'er the marvellous tides of the air, + Burns day. + + + WANDERERS + + Wide are the meadows of night, + And daisies are shining there, + Tossing their lovely dews, + Lustrous and fair; + And through these sweet fields go, + Wanderers amid the stars -- + Venus, Mercury, Uranus, Neptune, + Saturn, Jupiter, Mars. + + 'Tired in their silver, they move, + And circling, whisper and say, + Fair are the blossoming meads of delight + Through which we stray. + + + MANY A MICKLE + A little sound --- + Only a little, a little --- + The breath in a reed, + A trembling fiddle; + A trumpet's ring, + The shuddering drum; + So all the glory, bravery, hush + Of music come. + + A little sound --- + Only a stir and a sigh + Of each green leaf + Its fluttering neighbor by; + Oak on to oak, + The wide dark forest through --- + So o'er the watery wheeling world + The night winds go. + + A little sound, + Only a little, a little --- + The thin high drone + Of the simmering kettle, + The gathering frost, + The click of needle and thread; + Mother, the fading wall, the dream, + The drowsy bed. + + + WILL EVER? + + Will he ever be weary of wandering, + The flaming sun? + Ever weary of waning in lovelight, + The white still moon? + Will ever a shepherd come + With a crook of simple gold, + And lead all the little stars + Like lambs to the fold? + + Will ever the Wanderer sail + From over the sea, + Up the river of water, + To the stones to me? + Will he take us all into his ship, + Dreaming, and waft us far, + To where in the clouds of the West + The Islands are? + + + SONGS + + + THE SONG OF THE SECRET + + Where is beauty? + Gone, gone: + The cold winds have taken it + With their faint moan; + The white stars have shaken it, + Trembling down, + Into the pathless deeps of the sea. + Gone, gone + Is beauty from me. + + The clear naked flower + Is faded and dead; + The green-leafed willow, + Drooping her head, + Whispers low to the shade + Of her boughs in the stream, + Sighing a beauty, + Secret as dream. + + + THE SONG OF THE SOLDIERS + + As I sat musing by the frozen dyke, + There was a man marching with a bright steel pike, + Marching in the dayshine like a ghost came he, + And behind me was the moaning and the murmur + Of the sea. + + As I sat musing, 'twas not one but ten --- + Rank on rank of ghostly soldiers marching o'er the fen, + Marching in the misty air they showed in dreams to me, + And behind me was the shouting and the shattering + of the sea. + + As I sat musing, 'twas a host in dark array, + With their horses and their cannon wheeling onward + to the fray, + Moving like a shadow to the fate the brave must dree, + And behind me roared the drums, rang the trumpets + of the sea. + + + THE BEES' SONG + + Thousandz of thornz there be + On the Rozez where gozez + The Zebra of Zee: + Sleek, striped, and hairy, + The steed of the Fairy + Princess of Zee. + + Heavy with blossomz be + The Rozez that growzez + In the thickets of Zee. + Where grazez the Zebra, + Marked Abracadeeebra, + Of the Princess of Zee. + + And he nozez that poziez + Of the Rozez that grozez + So luvez'm and free, + With an eye, dark and wary, + In search of a Fairy, + Whose Rozez he knowzez + Were not honeyed for he, + But to breathe a sweet incense + To solace the Princess + Of far-away Zee. + + + SONG OF ENCHANTMENT + + A Song of Enchantment I sang me there, + In a green --green wood, by waters fair, + Just as the words came up to me + I sang it under the wildwood tree. + + Widdershins turned I, singing it low, + Watching the wild birds come and go; + No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen + Under the thick-thatched branches green. + + Twilight came; silence came; + The planet of Evening's silver flame; + By darkening paths I wandered through + Thickets trembling with drops of dew. + + But the music is lost and the words are gone + Of the song I sang as I sat alone, + Ages and ages have fallen on me-- + On the wood and the pool and the elder tree. + + + + DREAM SONG + + Sunlight, moonlight, + Twilight, starlight- + Gloaming at the close of day, + And an owl calling, + Cool dews falling + In a wood of oak and may. + + Lantern-light, taper-light, + Torchlight, no-light: + Darkness at the shut of day, + And lions roaring, + Their wrath pouring + In wild waste places far away. + + Elf-light, bat-light, + Touchwood-light and toad-light, + And the sea a shimmering gloom of grey, + And a small face smiling + In a dream's beguiling + In a world of wonders far away. + + + THE SONG OF SHADOWS + + Sweep thy faint Strings, Musician, + With thy long lean hand; + Downward the starry tapers burn, + Sinks soft the waning sand; + The old hound whimpers couched in sleep, + The embers smoulder low; + Across the walls the shadows + Come, and go. + + Sweep softly thy strings, Musician, + The minutes mount to hours; + Frost on the windless casement weaves + A labyrinth of flowers; + Ghosts linger in the darkening air, + Hearken at the open door; + Music hath called them, dreaming, + Home once more. + + + THE SONG OF THE MAD PRINCE + + Who said, 'Peacock Pie?' + The old King to the sparrow: + Who said, 'Crops are ripe?' + Rust to the harrow: + Who said, 'Where sleeps she now?' + Where rests she now her head, + Bathed in eve's loveliness'? --- + That's what I said. + + Who said, 'Ay, mum's the word'? + Sexton to willow: + Who said, 'Green duck for dreams, + Moss for a pillow'? + + Who said, 'All Time's delight + Hath she for narrow bed; + Life's troubled bubble broken'? --- + That's what I said. + + + THE SONG OF FINIS + + AT the edge of All the Ages + A Knight sate on his steed, + His armor red and thin with rust + His soul from sorrow freed; + And he lifted up his visor + From a face of skin and bone, + And his horse turned head and whinnied + As the twain stood there alone. + + No bird above that steep of time + Sang of a livelong quest; + No wind breathed, + Rest: + "Lone for an end!" cried Knight to steed, + Loosed an eager rein-- + Charged with his challenge into space: + And quiet did quiet remain. + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Peacock Pie, A Book of Rhymes, by Walter de la Mare + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEACOCK PIE, A BOOK OF RHYMES *** + +***** This file should be named 3753.txt or 3753.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/5/3753/ + +Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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