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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/38565-h.zip b/38565-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d04e955 --- /dev/null +++ b/38565-h.zip diff --git a/38565-h/38565-h.htm b/38565-h/38565-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ffc87c --- /dev/null +++ b/38565-h/38565-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2303 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cornish Catches and Other Verses, by Bernard Moore</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + } + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + table {width: 60%; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .footnote {font-size: 1em; margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 5%; margin-top: 1em;} + .fnanchor {font-size: 1em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:25%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i9 {display: block; margin-left: 9em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + a.contents:link {color: #000000; background: inherit;text-decoration: none;} + a.contents:visited {color: #cc0099; background: inherit; text-decoration: none;} + a.contents:hover {color: #0000ff; background: inherit; text-decoration: none;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cornish Catches, by Bernard Moore + +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: Cornish Catches + and Other Verses + +Author: Bernard Moore + +Release Date: January 13, 2012 [EBook #38565] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORNISH CATCHES *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Stephanie McKee and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<h1> +CORNISH CATCHES</h1> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>AUTHOR'S NOTE.</h3> + +<p>The Author begs to thank the Editors of the +following papers for their courtesy in allowing him +to reprint some of the poems in this book:—The +<i>Academy</i>, <i>Country Life</i>, <i>Fry's Magazine</i>, the +<i>Grand Magazine</i>, the <i>Sphere</i>, <i>T.P's Magazine</i>, the +<i>Vineyard</i>, the <i>Windsor Magazine</i>, the <i>Western +Morning News</i>, and the <i>Westminster Gazette</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p><i>Hutton, Advertiser Press, Ormskirk.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>CORNISH CATCHES</h1> +<h2>AND OTHER VERSES</h2> +<h3>BY</h3> +<h1>BERNARD MOORE<br /></h1> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/scribe.png" width="240" height="300" alt="scribe" /> +<br /></div> +<h3>LONDON</h3> +<h3>ERSKINE MACDONALD</h3> +<h4>1914</h4> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p><p><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p><p><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> +<h3>TO MY MOTHER.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 60%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="contents" width="60%" align="center" border="0"> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg">Page</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#well_there_tis"><b>Well, there 'tis</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_9">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#gardens"><b>Gardens</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_10">10</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#grocery"><b>Grocery</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_12">12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#eddication"><b>Eddication</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_14">14</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#jenny"><b>Jenny</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_16">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#in_the_kittereen"><b>In the Kittereen</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_17">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#maids"><b>Maids</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_18">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#capn_john"><b>Cap'n John</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_19">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#dolly_pentreath"><b>Dolly Pentreath</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_20">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#sunday_in_the_cornish_port"><b>Sunday in the Cornish Port</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_22">22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#granfers_proverbs"><b>Granfer's Proverbs</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_24">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#a_cornish_seining_song"><b>A Cornish Seining Song</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_25">25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#how_beee_me_deear"><b>"How be'ee, me deear?"</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_26">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#what_haveee_catched"><b>"What have'ee catched?"</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_27">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#a_mevagissey_haul"><b>A Mevagissey Haul</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#dicky"><b>Dicky</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#the_old_fishermans_lament"><b>The Old Fisherman's Lament</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#a_looe_lay"><b>a Looe Lay</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#on_the_kay_quay"><b>On the Kay (quay).</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#riches"><b>Riches</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#a_fireside_spell"><b>A Fireside Spell</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#cornish_comfort"><b>Cornish Comfort</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#i_mind_me"><b>"I mind me"</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#sure_nuff"><b>"Sure 'nuff"</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><b>II.</b></td> + <td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#the_garment_of_time"><b>"The Garment of Time"</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_40">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#in_a_garden"><b>In a Garden</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#sorrows_courage"><b>Sorrow's Courage</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_42">42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#a_choosing"><b>A Choosing</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_43">43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#star_signs"><b>Star Signs</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#the_old_knights_song"><b>The Old Knight's Song</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_45">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#fealty"><b>Fealty</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_47">47</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#treasure_trove"><b>Treasure Trove</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_48">48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#roses_and_rue"><b>Roses and Rue</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_49">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#dogma"><b>Definitions</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_50">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#blue_sky"><b>Blue Sky</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_51">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#shadows"><b>Shadows</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_52">52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#when_i_was_a_lad"><b>When I was a Lad</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_53">53</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#a_call"><b>A Call</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_55">55</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#the_return"><b>The Return</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_56">56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#in_the_bay"><b>In the Bay</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_58">58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#sea-foam"><b>Sea Foam</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#echoes"><b>Echoes</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_60">60</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#a_ballade_of_cornwall"><b>A Ballade of Cornwall</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_61">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="contents" href="#the_fishermans_prayer"><b>The Fisherman's Prayer</b></a></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#page_63">63</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="well_there_tis" id="well_there_tis"></a>WELL, THERE 'TIS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Well, there 'tis. You wakes up cryin' an' callin',</span> +<span class="i3">You'm cold an' hungered, an' skeered o' the turble dark;</span> +<span class="i2">It feels most like a gert black cloud's a fallin'</span> +<span class="i3">To crunch you to nothin', an' leave you smuttered an' stark.</span> +<span class="i2">But a kind hand comes when the gert black clouds would drownd you,</span> +<span class="i3">An' a warm breast holds you tight to cuddle an' kiss,</span> +<span class="i2">An' you know that the world o' Love be all around you.</span> +<span class="i7">Well! there 'tis.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then you grows a bit, and you finds a mort o' pleasure</span> +<span class="i3">In the rush o' the waves an' the roarin' wind in the sky;</span> +<span class="i2">An' you plays your games at Pirates seekin' treasure,</span> +<span class="i3">Or Penny-come-quick when the Breton Boys go by.</span> +<span class="i2">An' you don't much trouble at difrent kinds o' weather,</span> +<span class="i3">If 'tis sunny 'tis sunny, but rain won't make you miss</span> +<span class="i2">The chance to trample away thro' the moorland heather;</span> +<span class="i7">Well! there 'tis.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But you keeps on growin', an' then you begin in a fashion</span> +<span class="i3">To want some things you'd never a thought on before;</span> +<span class="i2">An' you sees some eyes be blue, an' you gets a passion</span> +<span class="i3">For jest a very perticlar cottage door.</span> +<span class="i2">An' you don't feel tired at the end o' the day o' toilin'</span> +<span class="i3">So long as it ends with the sound an' song of a kiss,</span> +<span class="i2">So long as it ends with arms round you coilin';</span> +<span class="i7">Well! there 'tis.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then you grows old, an' at last you falls on sleepin'.</span> +<span class="i3">Do you count you'll be all alone in the turble dark?</span> +<span class="i2">Do you think you'll be left to the sound o' wailin' an' weepin'</span> +<span class="i3">Lonely an' cold in the cloam, unmothered an' stark?</span> +<span class="i2">When you was a baby, helpless an' cryin' an' callin'</span> +<span class="i3">Didn' the kind arms take, an' the warm lips kiss?</span> +<span class="i2">An' won't there be Arms at last, to save you from fallin'?</span> +<span class="i7">Well! there 'tis.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="gardens" id="gardens"></a>GARDENS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Passun he've a garden, 'tis trim an' nate an' vitty,</span> +<span class="i3">He'm mortal proud o' growin' things that's turble hard to grow;</span> +<span class="i2">He'm mighty fond of orchises an' mazed for pellygomiuns,</span> +<span class="i3">An' calls 'em all furrin' names us don't belong to know.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Squire, he have a garden, a gert an' gorjus garden,</span> +<span class="i3">With hollyhocks a standin' like soljers in the sun;</span> +<span class="i2">He likes tremenjus peonies, an' roses crowdin' arches,</span> +<span class="i3">An' thinks as what the passun grows the whishtest sort o' fun.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Feyther have a garden, but don't run much to flowers,</span> +<span class="i3">For he've to think o' tatties, an' useful sort o' things;</span> +<span class="i2">His cabbages be famous, an' his collyflowers a wonder,</span> +<span class="i3">An' you should see the runners when they'm scarlet on the strings!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But I've a finer garden than the squire or the passun;</span> +<span class="i3">'Tis all along the hedgerows, an' all about the lanes;</span> +<span class="i2">It stretches up the hillside an' spreads acrost the moorland,</span> +<span class="i3">'Tis sweet with Cornish sunshine an' green with Cornish rains.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There's scent of honeysuckle shakin' sweet along the sunshine,</span> +<span class="i3">An' ragged robins sprinklin' scarlet stars among the grass,</span> +<span class="i2">An' foxgloves, with a peal o' bells a swingin' in the steeple,</span> +<span class="i3">A ringin' fairy music to the breezes as they pass.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">An' where the lanes climb up along, an' break upon the moorland,</span> +<span class="i3">The heather weaves a carpet all acrost the purple hills;</span> +<span class="i2">An' gorse gleams in the sunshine like a thousand burnin' bushes,</span> +<span class="i3">An' birds shout happy answers to the ripplin' o' the rills.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So squire may keep his garden, an' his gardeners a diggin',</span> +<span class="i3">An' passun's clanely welcome to the flowers he counts so fine,</span> +<span class="i2">(I won't say nort o' feyther's, for his tatties be so mealy),</span> +<span class="i3">But the bestest of all gardens is the garden that is mine.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="grocery" id="grocery"></a>GROCERY</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">John Pengelly be a clever man,</span> +<span class="i3">An' he keeps a grocery store;</span> +<span class="i2">He've got a seat on the Burryin' Board,</span> +<span class="i3">An' a sow as turns three score;</span> +<span class="i2">On Sunday night he holds the plate</span> +<span class="i3">An' on Thursday shuts at four.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He talks to Passon on clover crops,</span> +<span class="i3">An' Farmer Hain on Sin;</span> +<span class="i2">An' keeps the Parish Register,</span> +<span class="i3">An' a dog that isn' thin;</span> +<span class="i2">An' wears a watch-chain on his chest,</span> +<span class="i3">An' a Moses beard on his chin.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He allays takes the rhubarb prize</span> +<span class="i3">At the Flower Show every year;</span> +<span class="i2">An' if 'ee mind to order it</span> +<span class="i3">He'll get 'ee Bottled Beer;</span> +<span class="i2">(Though some as don't agree with that)</span> +<span class="i3">Besides it's rather dear.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Two different kinds of lard he sells,</span> +<span class="i3">But awnly one of tay;</span> +<span class="i2">An' he've a yaller oilskin coat</span> +<span class="i3">He hopes to sell some day,</span> +<span class="i2">But the awnly man it might have fit</span> +<span class="i3">Was drownded out to say.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">His matches hang in a cabbage net,</span> +<span class="i3">An' his onions hang in strings;</span> +<span class="i2">An' allays at the Church Bazaar</span> +<span class="i3">He sells the Hooplar rings;</span> +<span class="i2">An' if us get a concert up</span> +<span class="i3">An' there's no one else, <i>he</i> sings.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So be you'm seekin' clever men,</span> +<span class="i3">Come down along o' we;</span> +<span class="i2">We'll show 'ee John Pengelly then</span> +<span class="i3">Behind his grocery;</span> +<span class="i2">An' when you taste his peppermints,</span> +<span class="i3">Sure 'nuff, tis mazed you'll be.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="eddication" id="eddication"></a>EDDICATION</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Feyther sez as "Larnin' be the proper trade for boys,"</span> +<span class="i2">An' so us have to go to school, an' dursn't make a noise,</span> +<span class="i2">But jest sits on a form an' hears what schoolmaister do say,</span> +<span class="i2">An' all the time we'm thinkin' how the boats go in the bay.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There's different kinds o' larnin', an' there's some I can't abide,</span> +<span class="i2">They'm worse than swimmin' round the Main at ebbin' o' the tide.</span> +<span class="i2">I likes the tales o' travels an' at readin' do be praised,</span> +<span class="i2">An' I'm dacent doin' Adders, but Goseinters send me mazed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The Bible stories baint so bad excep' the fat head calf,</span> +<span class="i2">An' when schoolmaister tells of 'ee I allays wants to laugh;</span> +<span class="i2">Our Kitty likes the donkeys as was found by Sunno Kish,</span> +<span class="i2">But I likes best the tale about Ole Peter an' the fish.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Schoolmaister knaws a mort o' things as baint a bit o' use;</span> +<span class="i2">I've heered un tell the biggest boys about high potty mews;</span> +<span class="i2">But if he had to earn his bread, the same as feyther do,</span> +<span class="i2">I count he'd soon belong to know it wasn' much he knew.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">One day he gave a sum about a herrin' an' a half,</span> +<span class="i2">An' sez as how the boys was rude when they began to laugh;</span> +<span class="i2">He must a been a bufflehead to think as people bought</span> +<span class="i2"><i>Half</i> herrins, when we'm bringin' 'em by thousans into port.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I'm allays sittin' thinkin' when he'm talkin' to the board,</span> +<span class="i2">About the many things there be a boy can larn aboard;</span> +<span class="i2">There's sheets to haul an' gear to staw an' reefs to take an' tie,</span> +<span class="i2">An' wind to watch acomin' in the corner of your eye.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now if they larned us some o' these, or how to bend a hook,</span> +<span class="i2">'Twould be a darned sight usefuller than rubbige in a book;</span> +<span class="i2">But what's the good o' larnin' how to hold a scriggley pen,</span> +<span class="i2">An' spell a lot of orkard words, an' say to ten times ten?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Tis little use to grumble when 'ee have to keep the rules,</span> +<span class="i2">An' jest so long as there be boys, I count there must be schools;</span> +<span class="i2">An' tho' they'm good for larnin' if 'ee awnly knaws the way,</span> +<span class="i2">I'd sooner be a whifflin' arter mack'rel in the bay.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="jenny" id="jenny"></a>JENNY</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When Jenny goes a milkin' in the dewy time o' morn</span> +<span class="i2">I allays be contrivin' to be callin' at the farm,</span> +<span class="i2">For her cheeks be red as roses an' her hair like rippled corn,</span> +<span class="i2">An' I be fairly mazed to kiss the dimple on her arm.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Jenny, Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee?</span> +<span class="i4">You'm brighter far than any star</span> +<span class="i4">That's shinin' up above 'ee.</span> +<span class="i4">Sartin sure, you make me mazed,</span> +<span class="i4">Iss, me deear, a whist an' crazed;</span> +<span class="i4">Jenny, Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When Jenny goes to Fairin' with blue ribbons in her hair,</span> +<span class="i2">I count the Queen of England never looks a half as sweet,</span> +<span class="i2">An' when she'm in the Country dance no other maids be there,</span> +<span class="i2">For I never stops a glazin' at the twinkle of her feet.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Jenny, Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee?</span> +<span class="i5">Aw——But!!!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When Jenny goes to Mittin' House dressed in her Sunday clo'es</span> +<span class="i2">She looks so like a hangell in her little pew apart,</span> +<span class="i2">That when I try to sing the hymns my throttle seems to close,</span> +<span class="i2">An' I cussn't hear the sermon for the beatin' of my heart.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Jenny, Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee?</span> +<span class="i4">You'm brighter far than any star</span> +<span class="i4">That's shinin' up above 'ee;</span> +<span class="i4">Sartin sure, you make me mazed,</span> +<span class="i4">Iss, me deear, a whisht an' crazed;</span> +<span class="i4">Jenny, Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee?</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="in_the_kittereen" id="in_the_kittereen"></a>IN THE KITTEREEN</h2> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">(Kittereen: Cornish for a covered cart).</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Jenny an' me in the Kittereen</span> +<span class="i3">Drove to Callington Fair;</span> +<span class="i2">There wasn' much more than a foot between</span> +<span class="i3">Jenny an' me in the Kittereen</span> +<span class="i2">For both of us was just thirteen,</span> +<span class="i3">An' of course us didn' care.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Jenny an' me in the Kittereen</span> +<span class="i3">Drove from Callington Fair;</span> +<span class="i2">There wasn' much more than an inch between</span> +<span class="i3">Jenny an' me in the Kittereen</span> +<span class="i2">For both of us was just fifteen</span> +<span class="i3">With a packet of pops to share.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Jenny an' me in the Kittereen</span> +<span class="i3">Drove to Callington Fair;</span> +<span class="i2">There wasn' much less than a yard between</span> +<span class="i3">Jenny an' me in the Kittereen</span> +<span class="i2">For both of us was just seventeen</span> +<span class="i3">An' both knew the other was there.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Jenny an' me in the Kittereen</span> +<span class="i2">Drove from Callington Fair;</span> +<span class="i2">There was very much less than an inch between</span> +<span class="i2">Jenny an' me in the Kittereen</span> +<span class="i2">For wasn' we both of us turned nineteen?</span> +<span class="i2">An' wasn' there Love to share?</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="maids" id="maids"></a>MAIDS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I've knawed a many o' Devon maids with cheeks merry an' red,</span> +<span class="i2">They'm pleasant an' 'ansum single, an' homely an' cosy wed;</span> +<span class="i2">But I shan't marry a Devon maid; I reckon I'd rather be dead.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I've seed a many o' London maids abroad in London Town;</span> +<span class="i2">They'm larky an' flittery single, but marryin' calms 'em down;</span> +<span class="i2">But I shan't marry a London maid; I reckon I'd rather drown.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">For I have knawed the Cornish maids, an' like 'em best of any.</span> +<span class="i2">So take the London an' Devon maids, they'm goin' at two a penny;</span> +<span class="i2">An' I shan't marry nobody else, for I be tokened to Jenny.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="capn_john" id="capn_john"></a>CAP'N JOHN</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cap'n John has been to Frisky,</span> +<span class="i3">Injy an' Australy too;</span> +<span class="i2">Now he runs a lug-an'-mizzen</span> +<span class="i3">Arter Pilchers out o' Looe,</span> +<span class="i5">Iss, he do.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cap'n John was braave an' slippey</span> +<span class="i3">Till the say catched hold of he;</span> +<span class="i2">Now he'm tanned an' tough an' wrinkled,</span> +<span class="i3">Simming like mohogany.</span> +<span class="i5">Iss, he be.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cap'n John baint smurt an' 'ansum,</span> +<span class="i3">Like a claned up Sarvice Coor;</span> +<span class="i2">Stiff hair all aroun' his niddick</span> +<span class="i3">Makes him like a hedgaboor.</span> +<span class="i5">Iss, be Gor!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cap'n John don't boast o' beauty,</span> +<span class="i3">Beauty don't set down with tar;</span> +<span class="i2">But he've got a pair o' patches</span> +<span class="i3">Shows how dacent patches are.</span> +<span class="i5">Iss, with tar.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cap'n John thinks books is rubbige;</span> +<span class="i3">Sez that printin' spoils his eyes;</span> +<span class="i2">But he reads the book o' weather</span> +<span class="i3">Written in the say an' skies;</span> +<span class="i5">Iss, he's wise.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cap'n John, us looks towards 'ee,</span> +<span class="i3">Wish 'ee luck when shuttin' seine,</span> +<span class="i2">Wish 'ee tummals at the jowstin',</span> +<span class="i3">Wish 'ee out an' home again.</span> +<span class="i2">Clink you'm cider at the call,</span> +<span class="i5">"Cap'n John, an' One an' All."</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="dolly_pentreath" id="dolly_pentreath"></a>DOLLY PENTREATH</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Dolly Pentreath is dead an' gone, her stone stands up to Paul;</span> +<span class="i2">But Dolly Pentreath her still lives on in the hearts of One and All.</span> +<span class="i2">Her smoked an' snuffed, an' the cusses her knowed was mortal hard to bate,</span> +<span class="i2">But her carried her creel like a Mousehole maid, an' allays selled out her cate.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Her wern't afeerd at livin' alone, an' many a tale is told,</span> +<span class="i2">As shows as how her face was brass, but her heart was true as gold.</span> +<span class="i2">One day a sailor had tooked his leave afore his leave was given,</span> +<span class="i2">An' knowed if they catched him the yard arm rope would show him the way to Heaven,</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So he scatted to Dolly, an' jest in time her thought of the chimley wide,</span> +<span class="i2">An' her collared him hold by the slack of his breeks an' shoved him up inside.</span> +<span class="i2">Cussin' an' fussin' they searchers came, but awnly Dolly they sees,</span> +<span class="i2">Washin' her feet in her old oak keeve, with her petticoat up to her knees.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">An' didn' her give them a tang o' tongue, an' didn' her cuss them sweet,</span> +<span class="i2">For thinkin' her'd let a man bide there an' see her washin' her feet?</span> +<span class="i2">But her called the loudest cusses of all, an' scraiched like a rat at a stoat,</span> +<span class="i2">When the sailor gave a chokely cough for the fuzzen smoke in his throat.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The storm her raised drove the buffleheads out a grumpling into the street,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the sailor washed hisself in the keeve where Dolly had washed her feet.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"> * + * + * + *</span> +<span class="i2">Dolly Pentreath is dead an' gone, her stone stands up to Paul;</span> +<span class="i2">But Dolly Pentreath her still lives on in the hearts of One and All.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="sunday_in_the_cornish_port" id="sunday_in_the_cornish_port"></a>SUNDAY IN THE CORNISH PORT</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There b'aint no fishin' in the bay,</span> +<span class="i2">The boats be moored 'longside the kay,</span> +<span class="i2">With sails reefed in an' stawed away,</span> +<span class="i3">An' all so calm an' still—</span> +<span class="i2">Excep' the ripple o' the tide,</span> +<span class="i2">An' gulls awheelin' up 'longside</span> +<span class="i2">The clifts, to where the Church do bide</span> +<span class="i3">Atop the Flag-staff Hill.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Above the Slip where boats be moored</span> +<span class="i2">The cottage doors be set abroad,</span> +<span class="i2">An' singin' voices praise the Lord</span> +<span class="i3">For mercies which endure;</span> +<span class="i2">An' happy childer in the street,</span> +<span class="i2">Dressed all so vitty, clane, an' neat,</span> +<span class="i2">Puts somethin' in the music sweet</span> +<span class="i3">It didn' had before.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now every fisherman be dressed</span> +<span class="i2">In shiny suit o' black for best,</span> +<span class="i2">As fittin' to the Day o' Rest,</span> +<span class="i3">An' sign o' Death to Sin;</span> +<span class="i2">The jerseys in the lockers bide,</span> +<span class="i2">For Sunday knaws its proper pride,</span> +<span class="i2">An' likes to show a clane outside</span> +<span class="i3">To match the heart within.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Mid mornin', Church bell clangs a call.</span> +<span class="i2">An' some don't take no heed at all,</span> +<span class="i2">But some goes up the hill to Paul,</span> +<span class="i3">An' some to Chapel goes;</span> +<span class="i2">Whilst some strolls down upon the kay,</span> +<span class="i2">An' sits an' spits into the say;</span> +<span class="i2">But all the same, they knaws the Day,</span> +<span class="i3">An' doesn' dirt their clo'es.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But whether Church be right or b'aint,</span> +<span class="i2">Or Mittin' Houses make'ee faint,</span> +<span class="i2">Or whether you'm a solemn saint</span> +<span class="i3">Or jest a cheerful sinner,</span> +<span class="i2">For sartin, not so long by noon,</span> +<span class="i2">You'll all be playin' the same tune</span> +<span class="i2">Wi' knife an' fork an' mebbe spoon,</span> +<span class="i3">Asettin' down to dinner.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then mos'ly us do strawl away</span> +<span class="i2">Along the clifts that line the bay,</span> +<span class="i2">Though some prefers a dish o' tay</span> +<span class="i3">An' snooze along the settle;</span> +<span class="i2">But whether we'm been far or near,</span> +<span class="i2">We'm never losted, don't 'ee fear.</span> +<span class="i2">We'm allays home in time to hear</span> +<span class="i3">The singin' o' the kettle.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">An' when the Sun, a lantern red</span> +<span class="i2">Asinkin' at the World's mast-head,</span> +<span class="i2">Goes down, then us goes home to bed:</span> +<span class="i3">An' so us ends the Sunday.</span> +<span class="i2">For Sunday 'tis the Day o' days,</span> +<span class="i2">When all the fish do as 'em plaise,</span> +<span class="i2">While in the little port we prays</span> +<span class="i3">A banger catch for Monday.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="granfers_proverbs" id="granfers_proverbs"></a>GRANFER'S PROVERBS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Granfer sits in the winder an' looks acrost the bay;</span> +<span class="i2">Sure 'nuff he thinks a mort o' things tho' 'tis little he has to say.</span> +<span class="i2">'Tis time he came to his moorin's an' heaved his gear ashore,</span> +<span class="i2">For the sea is a bit too chancy for a man gone eighty-four.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He've catched a plenty of wisdom in the net inside his head,</span> +<span class="i2">An' often us be tellin' of the clever things he've said.</span> +<span class="i2">They'm cleverer nor things you read in books an' papers too,</span> +<span class="i2">Because he dosn' make 'em up, but awnly knaws they'm true.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He've good advice for sailor lads who musn't come to grief:</span> +<span class="i2">"Don't try to shine you'm centrebit by cuts acrost the reef.</span> +<span class="i2">Don't make you'm mainsail fast an' look for mermaids on the lew,</span> +<span class="i2">An' don't take cider kegs aboard because they spile the view."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He've good advice for all the maids whom lookin' arter lads:</span> +<span class="i2">"If you baint catchin' mackerel then be content with skads;</span> +<span class="i2">An' if you've tried the seinin' an' the fishes won't be took,</span> +<span class="i2">Just get a dacent bit o' bait, an' drop a line an' hook."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He've good advice for husbands, which he tells them all alone:</span> +<span class="i2">"Go suant comin' into port an' watch the weather cone;</span> +<span class="i2">Jest keep your hellum stiddy if there's tokens of a squall—</span> +<span class="i2">Cross words is nigh as useless as a porpus in the trawl."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He've good advice for housewives but he keeps it to hisself:</span> +<span class="i2">For he knows they awnly puts it with the jowds upon the shelf;</span> +<span class="i2">His wisest words to women be the words he doesn' say,</span> +<span class="i2">For he jest sits in the winder an' looks acrost the bay.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="a_cornish_seining_song" id="a_cornish_seining_song"></a>A CORNISH SEINING SONG</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The Huer is up on the cliff, me deears,</span> +<span class="i3">Glazing out to say;</span> +<span class="i2">Slip youm moorin's and ship youm gears,</span> +<span class="i3">There's Pilchers in the Bay;</span> +<span class="i2">Lift youm faistins on muggoty pie.</span> +<span class="i3">Down along an' away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Tisn the time for maids, me deears,</span> +<span class="i3">Don't 'ee be duffed by they;</span> +<span class="i2">There's lashins o' time to taise their ears</span> +<span class="i3">An' maze 'em wi' fal-de-lay.</span> +<span class="i2">They'll wait till arter the Pilcher's catched,</span> +<span class="i3">Down along an' away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Us'll be shuttin' soon, me deears,</span> +<span class="i3">There's purple on the say,</span> +<span class="i2">An' jowstin' this arternoon, me deears,</span> +<span class="i3">When us comes back to kay.</span> +<span class="i2">Who's for a banger, a bender haul</span> +<span class="i3">Down along an' away?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Pilchers is budiful fried, me deears,</span> +<span class="i3">Or baked in a bussa o' clay,</span> +<span class="i2">So sterry away wi' the tide, me deears,</span> +<span class="i3">For Pilchers in the Bay.</span> +<span class="i2">Slip youm moorin's an' ship youm gears,</span> +<span class="i3">Down along an' away!</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="how_beee_me_deear" id="how_beee_me_deear"></a>"HOW BE'EE, ME DEEAR?"</h2> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">(The Cornish Greeting).</span> + +<span class="i2">"How be'ee, me deear?" I heard her say,</span> +<span class="i2">But I was foached to be far away,</span> +<span class="i2">For the breeze was braave an' the boat in the bay,</span> +<span class="i3">An' Granny was old an' grey.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I didn' turn back to say "Good-bye,"</span> +<span class="i2">For slottery weather was in the sky,</span> +<span class="i2">The anchor was up an' the punt stood by,</span> +<span class="i3">Yet Granny was old an' grey!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Far I sailed, an' didn' I cast</span> +<span class="i2">Many a look at the old times past?</span> +<span class="i2">The lil' grey port as I saw it last?</span> +<span class="i3">An' Granny old an' grey?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">At last I came from the yowlin' main,</span> +<span class="i2">Guessin' to see the place again</span> +<span class="i2">Jest as it was, as nate an' plain,</span> +<span class="i3">An' Granny old an' grey.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Why didn' I seed the end was nigh?</span> +<span class="i2">Why didn' I bide to say "Good-bye?"</span> +<span class="i2">It's too late now to make reply,</span> +<span class="i3">Granny is gone away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But someday beyond the farthest tide,</span> +<span class="i2">At last I shall safely at anchor ride,</span> +<span class="i2">An' I shall be hailed as I come 'longside,</span> +<span class="i3">"How be'ee, me deear?"</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="what_haveee_catched" id="what_haveee_catched"></a>"WHAT HAVE'EE CATCHED?"</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"What have'ee catched, lil' lad on the shore?"</span> +<span class="i2">"Shrimps an' a crayfish out o' the pool,</span> +<span class="i2">An' a tinful o' lugworms, a tidy score,</span> +<span class="i2">To scrig on the night lines after school."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"What have'ee catched, lil' maid in the lane?"</span> +<span class="i2">"The scent o' the thyme an' the cheep of a bird,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the sound of a song that is joy an' pain,</span> +<span class="i2">But the sweetest song as ever I heard."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"What have'ee catched, strong man from the say?"</span> +<span class="i2">"A seineful o' pilchers, a sailful o' foam,</span> +<span class="i2">An' a twenty-knot breeze from the nor'rard away,</span> +<span class="i2">That drove me a-scuddin' an' rollickin' home."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"What have'ee catched, good dame by the door?"</span> +<span class="i2">"A lil' brown sail comin' with the tide,</span> +<span class="i2">That's bringin' back peace to my heart once more,</span> +<span class="i2">An' my man again to the chimley side."</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="a_mevagissey_haul" id="a_mevagissey_haul"></a>A MEVAGISSEY HAUL</h2> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">(A million pilchards, August 6th, 1912).</span> + +<span class="i2">A Sou' Sou' West was blowin' up to more than half a gale,</span> +<span class="i3">An' a prutty bit o' billow talked ashore,</span> +<span class="i2">But there baint no use for seiners as be afeared to sail,</span> +<span class="i3">When the catches have been runnin' light an' poor,</span> +<span class="i6">So we plugged out oar to oar.</span> +<span class="i4">Out along from old Mevagissey,—</span> +<span class="i4">Beatin' out from old Mevagissey,—</span> +<span class="i4">With a sky full o' scud blowin' over us,</span> +<span class="i4">An' a stiddy brazzle plonkin' at the bow.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">We shut the seine, an' watched the lights a dancin' green an' red,</span> +<span class="i3">An' wallowed first to starboard, then to port,</span> +<span class="i2">Until the dimsey touched the West, an' we was slowin' dead,</span> +<span class="i3">An' then we knawed 'twas tummals we had caught,</span> +<span class="i6">For the corks was bobbin' short.</span> +<span class="i4">Out along from old Mevagissey,—</span> +<span class="i4">Low lay old Mevagissey,—</span> +<span class="i4">When the grey dawn showed the shadows over us,</span> +<span class="i4">An' the brazzle came alippin' at the bow.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">We lugged the silver net aboard until the bilge was hid,</span> +<span class="i3">For crates was little use for such a haul,</span> +<span class="i2">An' then we let the main-sheet go, an' home along we slid,</span> +<span class="i3">With the hellum nearly buried in a squall,</span> +<span class="i6">But we didn' care at all.</span> +<span class="i4">For it was home along to old Mevagissey,</span> +<span class="i4">Back along to old Mevagissey,</span> +<span class="i4">With the dangers of the night blown over us,</span> +<span class="i4">An' <span class="smcap">A MILLION PILCHERS</span> slitherin' below.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">We tacked into the harbour with the ground-say grindin' hard,</span> +<span class="i3">An' we bumped to berth at last 'longside the quay,</span> +<span class="i2">Which was chockered up with barrels so you couldn' step a yard,</span> +<span class="i3">When we brought our shinin' harvest from the say:—</span> +<span class="i6">Now 'tis salt an' stawed away.</span> +<span class="i4">An' we'm home along in old Mevagissey,</span> +<span class="i5">Home again in old Mevagissey,</span> +<span class="i4">With the cloud o' winter care blown over us,</span> +<span class="i5">Whatever winter winds may blow.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="dicky" id="dicky"></a>DICKY</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A year agone, a year agone, our Dicky sailed away;</span> +<span class="i2">A blue light danced about his eyes like sunshine on the bay,</span> +<span class="i2">He whissled passin' down along, his heart was glad an' gay,</span> +<span class="i2">A year agone, a year agone, when Dicky sailed away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A year agone! a year agone! The time do speed so fast,</span> +<span class="i2">It scairce do seem a year agone we saw our Dicky last;</span> +<span class="i2">It seems as if his steps must come aclatterin' to the door,</span> +<span class="i2">An' he be claimin' payment with his breakfast for the score.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He loved the lanes in springtime an' he loved them at the fall,</span> +<span class="i2">But when the honeysuckle bloomed he loved them best of all;</span> +<span class="i2">I mind me how he had a sprig stuck in his cap that day,</span> +<span class="i2">A year agone, a year agone, when Dicky sailed away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There wasn' lad was handier at stawin' of a sail,</span> +<span class="i2">There wasn' lad was cheerfuller at stemmin' through a gale,</span> +<span class="i2">There wasn' lad was heartier at fishin' or at play,</span> +<span class="i2">A year agone, a year agone, when Dicky sailed away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A many ships come into port along the flowin' tide,</span> +<span class="i2">A many lads come home again an' safe in harbour ride,</span> +<span class="i2">But all in vain we watch for one, an' all in vain we pray.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> * + * + * + *</span> +<span class="i2">A year agone, a year agone, our Dicky sailed away!</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="the_old_fishermans_lament" id="the_old_fishermans_lament"></a>THE OLD FISHERMAN'S LAMENT</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Tis well an' fine for the steam-trawler to sweep the floor of the say,</span> +<span class="i2">But 'tis turble hard for the fisherman as awnly sails the Bay,</span> +<span class="i2">For the fish gets scaircer an' scaircer an' hardly ait at all,</span> +<span class="i2">An' what's to be catched with the seinin' be barely wuth the haul.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Us used to count on the herrin's to buy us Chris'mus cheer,</span> +<span class="i2">But the catch runs lighter an' lighter, an' pervisions be allays dear,</span> +<span class="i2">An' what us gets in the crab-pots that don't take long to sell,</span> +<span class="i2">Especial when most of the pots be gone on a long ground swell.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Tis a whisht poor life for a lad to lead, an' mos'ly they wont abide,</span> +<span class="i2">But sterry away to the furrin' ports athurt a keenly tide,</span> +<span class="i2">An' us be left, all lone an' long, to moil as best us may,</span> +<span class="i2">While the clankin' trawler steams along, an' sweeps the floor of the say.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="a_looe_lay" id="a_looe_lay"></a>A LOOE LAY</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ole Sammy took fish from Downderry to Looe;</span> +<span class="i2">Jest the darnedest thing that Ole Sammy could do;</span> +<span class="i2">An' nobody knawed what Ole Sammy was thinkin'</span> +<span class="i2">For when he got there the fish was a stinkin'.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He cried them in stores an' he cried them in housen,</span> +<span class="i2">But no one would have them at tuppence a thousan';</span> +<span class="i2">He cried them in Fore Street an' then on the Pier,</span> +<span class="i2">But folks said as "Nothin' was tuppence too dear."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sure awnly a saftie would ever be carin'</span> +<span class="i2">To pay for the fish when they'd had such a airin'!</span> +<span class="i2">An' any regreater deserve to be stranded</span> +<span class="i2">For carryin' fish to the port where they'm landed!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So Sammy went homeways from Looe to Downderry,</span> +<span class="i2">An' on to Torpoint an' acrost by the ferry,</span> +<span class="i2">An' up along Plymouth, remarkable flish,</span> +<span class="i2">He selled out to wance all his basket of fish.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Tis sartin that 'tis, an' can't be no 'tisser,</span> +<span class="i2">Us knaws fish an' fish from the Rame to the Lizzer;</span> +<span class="i2">What's hansun for Devon for us doesn' do,</span> +<span class="i2">So don't 'ee be carryin' fish into Looe.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="on_the_kay_quay" id="on_the_kay_quay"></a>ON THE KAY (QUAY).</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">As I was bendin' a hook one day</span> +<span class="i2">A furriner<a name="FNanchor1" id="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote1" class="fnanchor">*</a> strawled along the kay.</span> + +<span class="i2">His cheeks was white as gannet's wing,</span> +<span class="i2">An' he looked a whisht an' wakely thing.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">His clo'es was nate an' spickety span,</span> +<span class="i2">But I sez to meself "Now there's a man!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">An' I sez to meself "Now look at his legs,</span> +<span class="i2">They'm like a couple o' crabpot pegs."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">An' I sez to meself "A bit of a squall</span> +<span class="i2">Would blow his bones to the end of all."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">An' I sez—but I didn' had time to say</span> +<span class="i2">For a scraitch went up from the end o' the kay,</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Where a cheeld was aswingin' jest afore,</span> +<span class="i2">An' now there wasn' no cheeld no more,</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then a'most afore I could see him go,</span> +<span class="i2">That furriner sprang in the say below.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He couldn' swim much, but he keeped afloat</span> +<span class="i2">Jest while I tumbled into the boat,</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">An' I hooked him up an' lugged him aboard,</span> +<span class="i2">An' he had that cheeld clipped tight as cord.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He trembled an' shook, he was wake an' white,</span> +<span class="i2">But he awnly sez "Is the kid alright?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sure 'nuff, an' he simmed to understand</span> +<span class="i2">When I gived him a hearty shake o' the hand.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I started abendin' the hook agen,</span> +<span class="i2">An' I sez "There's different looks to men,</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Braave hearts in whisht poor bodies bide,</span> +<span class="i2">An' looks don't count to what's inside."</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote1" id="Footnote1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">*</a> To Cornishmen, non-Cornish are "furriners."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="riches" id="riches"></a>RICHES</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Miss Tregear be a whisht poor woman,</span> +<span class="i3">With her big fine house an' her carriage an' pair;</span> +<span class="i2">Her keeps four maids, not countin' the tweeny,</span> +<span class="i3">An' another especial to do her hair.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ruth Penwarne be a braave rich woman;</span> +<span class="i3">Her lives in a cottage with a warpley door;</span> +<span class="i2">Her've got four childer, not countin' the baby,</span> +<span class="i3">An' there baint no tellin' but her might have more.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Miss Tregear have a room for dinin',</span> +<span class="i3">An' a room for drawin', where her doesn' draw,</span> +<span class="i2">An' a room where books be shut in cupboards,</span> +<span class="i3">An' others us don't knaw what they'm for.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ruth Penwarne have a little linhay,</span> +<span class="i3">An' there her washes when the rain be nigh,</span> +<span class="i2">But when 'tis sunny her goes in the garden,</span> +<span class="i3">An' spreads her clo'es on the fuzzen to dry.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Miss Tregear have a pile o' carpets;</span> +<span class="i3">Her be frit of a moth or a speck o' dust;</span> +<span class="i2">Her be feared that the sun will spile her curtains,</span> +<span class="i3">An' the damp will make her fire-irons rust.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ruth Penwarne have a fine stone kitchen;</span> +<span class="i3">An' two rooms aloft as be crammed with beds;</span> +<span class="i2">Her don't have carpets, so they can't get dirty,</span> +<span class="i3">An' her soon clanes up where the childer treads.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Miss Tregear have a face that's lonely;</span> +<span class="i3">Her be often sad, tho' her can't tell why;</span> +<span class="i2">Her be allays asayin there's nothin' doin',</span> +<span class="i3">An' thinks how slow all the days go by.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ruth Penwarne haven't time for thinkin',</span> +<span class="i3">With makin' an' mendin' an' scrubbin' too,</span> +<span class="i2">An' sartin sure, she'm a braave rich woman,</span> +<span class="i3">With childer an' home an' her work to do.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="a_fireside_spell" id="a_fireside_spell"></a>A FIRESIDE SPELL</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"I've spanked young Tom an' sent him to bed, an' I reckon it sarves him right;</span> +<span class="i2">For 'tisn no use asayin' things when the rope's end baint in sight,</span> +<span class="i2">An' he shouldn' go steerin' out along when the tide is runnin' away,</span> +<span class="i2">I've telled him afore; I cussn't keep on atellin' him every day."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Now when I was a boy—" "Iss, when you was a boy, you was jest such a scalliant too,</span> +<span class="i2">All'ays athinkin' o' darin' things as you didn' belong to do.</span> +<span class="i2">Climbin' they clifts for saygulls' eggs or clambering ower the crags</span> +<span class="i2">An' heavin' tuffs at the cormorants, an' shyin' stones at the shags."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"But when I was a boy—" "Iss, when you was a boy you worried you'm mother a mort,</span> +<span class="i2">I mind how'ee tried to swim out to the Point, an' how in the race'ee was caught;</span> +<span class="i2">I know they had dared'ee at doin' their dags, but dags didn' keep'ee afloat,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the say 'ud have catched'ee that mornin', sure 'nuff, if they hadn' raced out with the boat."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Well, mebbe I was jest sich a limb, as'ee says, an' all'ays full sail for a game,</span> +<span class="i2">An' I reckon as boys will be boys when they'm boys, but grows into men what are tame,</span> +<span class="i2">An' when Tom is a feyther alarnin' <i>his</i> son to feel the weight of <i>his</i> hand,</span> +<span class="i2">Mebbe he'll fergive me for spankin' him now, an' remember, an' understand."</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="cornish_comfort" id="cornish_comfort"></a>CORNISH COMFORT</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Don't 'ee cry, lil' maid, 'tis awnly a broken bussa;</span> +<span class="i2">The jowds won't mend, best lave the attle abide.</span> +<span class="i2">There's tummals o' bussas left, an' it might be wusser."</span> +<span class="i7">But the lil' maid cried.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Don't 'ee cry, li'l maid. If fellows gets changy and chancy,</span> +<span class="i2">Tomorrow a braaver will come than the totle who stepped.</span> +<span class="i2">Floshed milk baint no use, an' it isn' wuth scrowlin', I fancy."</span> +<span class="i6">Still the lil' maid wept.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Don't 'ee cry, li'l maid—Iss, the Say be a terrible net,</span> +<span class="i2">An' 'tis wearisome waitin' a meetin' beyont the Big Tide;</span> +<span class="i2">Jest try to catch sleep on you'm pellaw, mebbe you'll forget."</span> +<span class="i6">Still the lil' maid cried.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Don't 'ee cry did un say? Well, youm feyther jest wanted to cheer'ee,</span> +<span class="i2">But men doesn' knaw where the best cup o' comfort is kept.</span> +<span class="i2">Cuddle down; cry it out on you'm own mother's bosom, me dearie."</span> +<span class="i6">Then the lil' maid slept.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="i_mind_me" id="i_mind_me"></a>"I MIND ME"</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I mind me of the cottage where I used to bide</span> +<span class="i2">Just above the harbour on the steep hill-side;</span> +<span class="i2">Cobbled was the cause'y to the jasmined door</span> +<span class="i2">That looked into the kitchen with the grey stone floor.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I mind me of the dresser with the chainy white,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the gurt big Bible as was read aSunday night;</span> +<span class="i2">An' the old cloam tay-pot with the broken spout</span> +<span class="i2">As wanted suant dealin' at the pourin' out.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I mind the quiet mornin's an' the tickin' o' the clock,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the brath upon the brandiss in the steamin' crock;</span> +<span class="i2">An' the goin' of the shadows an' the comin' of the day,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the startin' in the dimsey for the fishin' in the bay.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I mind me of the night-times an' wind whisslin' drear,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the scraitchin' o' the shingle when I couldn' slape for fear;</span> +<span class="i2">An' the groanin' gropin' darkness with norra gleam nor star,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the boom of the billows on the harbour bar.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But the cosy chimley corner, I mind it best of all,</span> +<span class="i2">With the smell of tatie pasties from the oven in the wall,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the crackle of the fuzzen with the billies on the blow,</span> +<span class="i2">An' the ring o' ruddy faces in the hearth-fire glow.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The cottage still is lookin' from the hill across the bay;</span> +<span class="i2">Above the cobbled cause'y swings the jasmine spray;</span> +<span class="i2">But the gleam o' ruddy faces an' the hearth-fire glow</span> +<span class="i2">Went out in the darkness long long ago.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="sure_nuff" id="sure_nuff"></a>"SURE 'NUFF"</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sure 'nuff, 'twas good when I was a lad</span> +<span class="i3">To be in a boat in the bay;</span> +<span class="i2">To whiffle the mack'rel, hook the chad,</span> +<span class="i3">And haul at the nets away;</span> +<span class="i2">'Twas good to feel the wind in my face,</span> +<span class="i3">An' scud through a tumble o' foam,</span> +<span class="i2">An' see far off the twinklin' lights</span> +<span class="i3">Of the lil' grey port, an' home.</span> +<span class="i2">An' 'twas good to climb in the craggy clifts</span> +<span class="i3">Where the guillemot raired her brood,</span> +<span class="i2">An' go with a laugh in the heart all day;</span> +<span class="i3">Sure 'nuff, 'twas good!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sure 'nuff, 'twas good when I wandered away,</span> +<span class="i3">An' saw that the world was wide,</span> +<span class="i2">In the wunnerful lands beyont the say,</span> +<span class="i3">An' the ports where the big ships ride.</span> +<span class="i2">'Twas good to meet men who could strive an' seek,</span> +<span class="i3">An' didn' knaw nort o' fear,</span> +<span class="i2">An' hail 'em a word in passin' by,</span> +<span class="i3">An' answer 'em back with a cheer.</span> +<span class="i2">'Twas good to be sailin' the way o' the world,</span> +<span class="i3">An' standin' where strong men stood,</span> +<span class="i2">An' counted awhile as a man among men;</span> +<span class="i3">Sure 'nuff, 'twas good!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sure 'nuff, 'tis good, with voyagin' done,</span> +<span class="i3">To be anchored in port at last,</span> +<span class="i2">An' watch the boys go, one by one,</span> +<span class="i3">As I did in days long past;</span> +<span class="i2">'Tis good to set in the cottage door,</span> +<span class="i3">An' gaze at the sky an' say,</span> +<span class="i2">An' knaw that I fared on the flood tide once,</span> +<span class="i3">Now 'tis fallin' away;</span> +<span class="i2">An' 'tis good to have time to make ready to sail</span> +<span class="i3">On the voyage that leads to rest;</span> +<span class="i2">An' I trust a Pilot Who will not fail.</span> +<span class="i3">Sure 'nuff, 'tis best!</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="the_garment_of_time" id="the_garment_of_time"></a>THE GARMENT OF TIME</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The giant Image of Eternal Time</span> +<span class="i3">Sits throned amidst the Infinite of Space;</span> +<span class="i2">And through the æons, passing chime by chime,</span> +<span class="i6">Heeds not our Race.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Meanwhile we weave upon his robes' array</span> +<span class="i3">Embroideries of doubts and hopes and fears,</span> +<span class="i2">The golden threads of laughter by the way,</span> +<span class="i6">Grey threads of tears.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Careless sits Time of garment grey or gold,</span> +<span class="i3">Although our passionate labours never cease</span> +<span class="i2">Till weaving hands are weary and we grow old.</span> +<span class="i6">And pass to peace.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And who that gazes on that garb of Time</span> +<span class="i3">Shall in the far light of a distant day</span> +<span class="i2">Catch aught of colour of song or rune of rhyme?</span> +<span class="i6">Shall all be grey?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Yet till the end fall—and the day close,</span> +<span class="i3">Let me weave in the web of pain and the woof of tears</span> +<span class="i2">The colour of sun-bright seas and the red of the rose,</span> +<span class="i6">In my Loom of Years.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="in_a_garden" id="in_a_garden"></a>IN A GARDEN</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A twilight peace droops tenderly,</span> +<span class="i2">The discords of the day depart,</span> +<span class="i2">And through the hush there comes to be</span> +<span class="i2">A harmony within the heart;</span> +<span class="i3">And waking to the quivering strings</span> +<span class="i3">Spirits are touched to finer things.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sweet hand-fast silences of eve,</span> +<span class="i2">When love's supremest note is heard</span> +<span class="i2">In symphonies the spirits weave</span> +<span class="i2">Beyond the need of mortal word,</span> +<span class="i3">O! may we keep your music when</span> +<span class="i3">We pace the noisy haunts of men.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Give us the strength for daily stress</span> +<span class="i2">Of toil about the busy world;</span> +<span class="i2">Give us a balm to bitterness</span> +<span class="i2">From wounds when cruel shafts are hurled;</span> +<span class="i3">And give us courage in a sense</span> +<span class="i3">Of Love's divine omnipotence.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">For Life can never lonely be</span> +<span class="i2">Since Love has broken all the bars</span> +<span class="i2">That stayed the soul from unity</span> +<span class="i2">With Heaven and its ten thousand stars,</span> +<span class="i3">Whose music falls sublimely grand</span> +<span class="i3">Through silences of hand in hand.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="sorrows_courage" id="sorrows_courage"></a>SORROW'S COURAGE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I have loved Beauty. I have seen the sun</span> +<span class="i3">Flash snowy mountain tops to shimmer of gold;</span> +<span class="i2">I have heard songs where little waters run</span> +<span class="i3">Chiming with music that the stars have rolled.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I have loved Beauty. I have seen the sea</span> +<span class="i3">Fringe with its silver all the golden shore;</span> +<span class="i2">Have heard it crooning music ceaselessly</span> +<span class="i3">To ancient tunes frayed from the tempest's roar.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I have loved Beauty. I have seen a smile</span> +<span class="i3">Shine from sweet eyes, fair as the sea's own blue,</span> +<span class="i2">Whose magic lashes seemed to lift awhile</span> +<span class="i3">To send a kindly comrade spirit through.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I have loved Beauty. But nor sun nor sea</span> +<span class="i3">Nor stars have charactered God's chiefest grace;</span> +<span class="i2">Beyond all other things there beacons me</span> +<span class="i3">The star-led pilgrim courage of your face.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="a_choosing" id="a_choosing"></a>A CHOOSING</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Under the turf the blind mole creeps,</span> +<span class="i3">And moulds the mounds of molehill kind.</span> +<span class="i2">Above, the skylark soars and sweeps,</span> +<span class="i3">The song is swept upon the wind.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">To-morrow's eyes the mounds may see;</span> +<span class="i3">To-morrow they will mark the plain.</span> +<span class="i2">But none shall hear the ecstasy</span> +<span class="i3">Of song, that cannot be again.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Well built, old mole! A little heap</span> +<span class="i3">To linger to a later day!</span> +<span class="i2">Something to show you once did creep</span> +<span class="i3">In darkness through your earthy way.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Yet with the lark's glad song of Love</span> +<span class="i3">May mine on wandering winds be hurled,</span> +<span class="i2">In happy regions far above</span> +<span class="i3">The dull mad molehills of the world.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Still let my song be all in all,</span> +<span class="i3">Though Earth-born discords soon destroy,</span> +<span class="i2">And on no mortal ear may fall</span> +<span class="i3">The music of immortal joy.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Break, Spirit, break to boundless things</span> +<span class="i3">Beyond the molehill and the clod,</span> +<span class="i2">And catch the glory of the strings</span> +<span class="i3">That tune the harmonies of God.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="star_signs" id="star_signs"></a>STAR SIGNS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Primal swirl of the Chaos, out of your nebulous Night</span> +<span class="i3">Eddied the primal tides, as the Mind of God decreed,</span> +<span class="i2">And the Word of the ultimate Source spake forth "Let there be Light,"</span> +<span class="i3">And all the Firmament blazed with the dust of the star-sown seed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Strong and stately and splendid, thronging the limitless spaces.</span> +<span class="i3">Ye are the silver signs to a House not made with hands;</span> +<span class="i2">Ye are the Mystic Scroll, where the Mighty Maker traces</span> +<span class="i3">Thoughts that the passionate poet dimly understands.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Day, with its drouth and drosses, shrivels our fragile souls,</span> +<span class="i3">And, witched with its transient gauds, to the perilous earth we cling,</span> +<span class="i2">But ever the tender night its infinite page unrolls,</span> +<span class="i3">And the star-led mind aspires to the Throne of the star-robed King.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="the_old_knights_song" id="the_old_knights_song"></a>THE OLD KNIGHT'S SONG</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">My lady lives afar in the fair white tower</span> +<span class="i3">Hid, like a nest, high among branches swaying.</span> +<span class="i2">"Peaceful thoughts be her portion, dreams her dower,"</span> +<span class="i6">Here am I on my knees, praying.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">To the Winds of the World from the hills and the sea far blowing,</span> +<span class="i3">That they carry their strength to her heart for sorrow's staying,</span> +<span class="i2">That they bring clear hopes and the gladness of freedom flowing,</span> +<span class="i6">Here am I on my knees, praying.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">To the Lamp of Day, that the aureate beauty breaking</span> +<span class="i3">Find answering smiles in her eyes for the fair displaying</span> +<span class="i2">Of colour of gold on the way my Lady is taking,</span> +<span class="i6">Here am I on my knees, praying.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">To the sentinel Stars through the infinite spaces sweeping,</span> +<span class="i3">Guarding the night, and terrors of darkness slaying,</span> +<span class="i2">That they bring sweet Peace to the dreams of my Lady sleeping,</span> +<span class="i6">Here am I, on my knees praying.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But my casque is rusted with Time, and my breastplate battered,</span> +<span class="i3">My hauberk worn with ancient fighting and fraying;</span> +<span class="i2">Dull is my shield, my banner faded and tattered.</span> +<span class="i6">Here am I on my knees, praying.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Here at an outpost, here is my patrol duty:</span> +<span class="i3">My Lady's train is for Knights of a fair arraying;</span> +<span class="i2">Only from far may I guard her, loving her beauty:</span> +<span class="i6">Here am I on my knees, praying.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Wandering lights have I followed, the one Light questing,</span> +<span class="i3">I have wearied through difficult paths and long delaying;</span> +<span class="i2">Perilous peaks have I scaled with feet unresting;</span> +<span class="i6">Here I am on my knees, praying.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Star-like my Lady shines in her fair white tower.</span> +<span class="i3">"Let nothing come nigh her to lead to her joy's betraying,</span> +<span class="i2">No cloud dull aught of the golden dreams, her dower."</span> +<span class="i6">Here am I on my knees, praying.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="fealty" id="fealty"></a>FEALTY</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When my Lady hath Pleasure and friends to spare,</span> +<span class="i3">And riot of roses strewed in her path of days,</span> +<span class="i2">And laughter ringing carillons into the air,</span> +<span class="i3">She needs not me; I travel the lonely ways.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When my Lady hath Youth uplifting a song</span> +<span class="i3">Like the twitter of birds in a springtime hawthorn bough,</span> +<span class="i2">And round her the notes of a merry-mad music throng,</span> +<span class="i3">She needs not me; my music is sad and low.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But when my Lady hath Sorrow to stress her heart,</span> +<span class="i3">And Pain brings up to her eyes the ghosts of fear,</span> +<span class="i2">And the music of Youth, and Laughter and Joy depart,</span> +<span class="i3">Then she will need me: and lo! am I not here?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Here I stand at the gateway and vigil keep,</span> +<span class="i3">Waiting the summoning sob or the calling sigh;</span> +<span class="i2">Swift to assuage her tears should my Lady weep;</span> +<span class="i3">Happy if sorrow for ever may pass her by.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="treasure_trove" id="treasure_trove"></a>TREASURE TROVE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">You did not know that, gazing on your face,</span> +<span class="i3">I took its Beauty to my heart for ever,</span> +<span class="i2">Where it illumines every day with grace,</span> +<span class="i4">Though Time and tides may sever.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">You did not know that, looking in your eyes,</span> +<span class="i3">I found their Truth, beyond all need for speaking,</span> +<span class="i2">And knew their gentleness a paradise</span> +<span class="i4">Worth all a wide world's seeking.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">You did not know that every word you spoke</span> +<span class="i3">Told me the Courage in your heart abiding,</span> +<span class="i2">And bade me watch, where through the cloud-rifts broke</span> +<span class="i4">One steady star for guiding.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">You did not know. But in my heart I know,</span> +<span class="i3">The Beauty, Truth, and Courage that enfold you:</span> +<span class="i2">And when we part I do not let you go:</span> +<span class="i4">Thus in my heart I hold you.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="roses_and_rue" id="roses_and_rue"></a>ROSES AND RUE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">You gave me roses, you have given me Rue.</span> +<span class="i3">Yet to the Roses memoried fragrance clings,</span> +<span class="i2">And in their faded petals I renew</span> +<span class="i3">The first fresh grace of unforgotten things.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">God give you Roses all along the way.</span> +<span class="i3">So will I wear contentedly the Rue;</span> +<span class="i2">And when I greet you with a smile, I pray</span> +<span class="i3">Shade of my sorrow never fall on you.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="dogma" id="dogma"></a>DOGMA</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Reason's unreasoned castle of defence</span> +<span class="i3">With turrets towering into far-off skies,</span> +<span class="i2">Whose superstructure, solid and immense,</span> +<span class="i3">Is built on shadows and on mysteries.</span> +</div></div> + +<h2>CREED</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Not with light straws, swift swept upon the stream,</span> +<span class="i3">Not with light foam, blown up along the shore,</span> +<span class="i2">In calm unmeasured deeps my jewels gleam,</span> +<span class="i3">Hid in my heart of hearts for evermore.</span> +</div></div> + +<h2>RELIGION</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The one cool joy of all life's broiling day;</span> +<span class="i3">The one sweet star that gleams where saints have trod;</span> +<span class="i2">The one clear stream beside the dusty way</span> +<span class="i9">That leads to God.</span> +</div></div> + +<h2>PIETY</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A quiet garment for eternal wear,</span> +<span class="i3">Designed above frail fashion's mortal dress,</span> +<span class="i2">Worked with a web of faith, a woof of prayer,</span> +<span class="i3">Coloured with love and fair with gentleness.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="blue_sky" id="blue_sky"></a>BLUE SKY</h2> + +<h3>(From the French of Marcel Doran).</h3> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O! weary waste of shoreless blue</span> +<span class="i3">Where weary wing may never rest!</span> +<span class="i2">O! awful brightness burning through</span> +<span class="i3">The barrier of the gate of rest!</span> +<span class="i4">My spirit longs to reach the strand</span> +<span class="i4">Of sorrow-soothing shadowland.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But what can this poor spirit wear</span> +<span class="i3">To hide the naked wounds, pain-kissed</span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the searching, ceaseless glare</span> +<span class="i3">Of cloudless burning amethyst?</span> +<span class="i4">Where can the sad grey spirit fly</span> +<span class="i4">The unrelenting agony?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O! for some shadow-haunted stream</span> +<span class="i3">Where tired eyes might fall asleep,</span> +<span class="i2">And in the peace of darkling dream</span> +<span class="i3">See Sorrow's pageant homeward creep,</span> +<span class="i4">Feel angel hands with white caress</span> +<span class="i4">Soothe eyelids dark with heaviness!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O! for some minster where the balm</span> +<span class="i3">Of cooling touch my wounds might heal;</span> +<span class="i2">Where always dwells a Sabbath calm,</span> +<span class="i3">Made sweeter by the solemn peal</span> +<span class="i4">Of bells, that trembling fill the air</span> +<span class="i4">With noble notes of perfect prayer!</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="shadows" id="shadows"></a>SHADOWS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Shadows, the pale grey wings of night,</span> +<span class="i5">Sweep over the sky,</span> +<span class="i3">And low in the west the lingering light</span> +<span class="i5">Wanes—like a sigh</span> +<span class="i3">From the fervent heart of the day</span> +<span class="i5">Passing away:</span> +<span class="i7">Then afar</span> +<span class="i7">Shineth a star.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Shadows, the pale grey wings of Death,</span> +<span class="i5">Sweep over my heart;</span> +<span class="i3">And far in the dark a voice calleth,</span> +<span class="i5">"Come ye, depart."</span> +<span class="i3">There lingers no light from the day</span> +<span class="i5">Passing away,</span> +<span class="i7">But afar</span> +<span class="i7">Shineth a Star!</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="when_i_was_a_lad" id="when_i_was_a_lad"></a>WHEN I WAS A LAD</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When I was a lad in Petherick</span> +<span class="i3">I often lay me down</span> +<span class="i2">And built a beautiful city</span> +<span class="i3">And called it London Town.</span> +<span class="i2">I filled its streets with heroes</span> +<span class="i3">Beautiful strong and wise,</span> +<span class="i2">Men who were kings and princes,</span> +<span class="i3">Women with kindly eyes.</span> +<span class="i2">I spent the gold of the charlock</span> +<span class="i3">For paving the city street;</span> +<span class="i2">I saw bright flags awaving</span> +<span class="i3">Over the billowing wheat;</span> +<span class="i2">And loud in the brown bee's buzzing</span> +<span class="i3">I heard the far-off hum</span> +<span class="i2">Of the mart and the busy merchants,</span> +<span class="i3">And the wharves where the big ships come.</span> +<span class="i2">When I was a lad in Petherick</span> +<span class="i3">I often lay me down,</span> +<span class="i2">And built this wonderful city,</span> +<span class="i3">And called it London Town.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * + * + * + *</span> +<span class="i2">Now I'm a man in London—</span> +<span class="i3">Golden dreams I had</span> +<span class="i2">Of a golden city of London</span> +<span class="i3">Long since when I was a lad.</span> +<span class="i2">Here on the long grey pavement</span> +<span class="i3">I seek that city still</span> +<span class="i2">But there isn't much gold in Fleet Street,</span> +<span class="i3">Or glamour on Ludgate Hill.</span> +<span class="i2">For the hurrying men look haggard,</span> +<span class="i3">And the women have weary eyes,</span> +<span class="i2">And the voices of pale-faced children</span> +<span class="i3">Mingle in fretful cries.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There's gold in the field of charlock,</span> +<span class="i3">There's gold on the billowing wheat,</span> +<span class="i2">And the bee sucks golden honey</span> +<span class="i3">In lanes where the flowers are sweet.</span> +<span class="i2">And small ships sail in the distance</span> +<span class="i3">To a golden bourne in the west,</span> +<span class="i2">And the gentle peace of twilight</span> +<span class="i3">Is the purest gold of rest.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * + * + * + *</span> +<span class="i2">Dreams of the man in London!</span> +<span class="i3">Useless dreams and sad,</span> +<span class="i2">Of the far-off village of Petherick</span> +<span class="i3">And the far-off Cornish lad.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="a_call" id="a_call"></a>A CALL</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Let us go out to the Garden of Pan, and hear what the Pipes are playing;</span> +<span class="i2">Let us go out where the ancient hills mother the rivers that run to the sea;</span> +<span class="i2">Let us go out where the wind wanders, tuning amid the trees swaying,</span> +<span class="i2">Let us go out to the wider world where the thoughts of men are free.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There on the hills the eye may see the changeless Beauty changing</span> +<span class="i2">On sun-splashed grass and wavering corn, verdant valley and rolling down,</span> +<span class="i2">Clouds steal up from a far-off tryst, like Titans into battalions ranging,</span> +<span class="i2">And the splendid Sun-god marching on to crown the world with a golden crown.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Here in the City the voices are hoarse. Here is calling and crying,</span> +<span class="i2">Lust and longing for pride of place, vanity, pomp, and the strain of strife;</span> +<span class="i2">Here in the City sobs arise from the battered hosts of the falling and dying,</span> +<span class="i2">Who know not Peace, nor the End of Peace; who know not Life, nor the End of Life.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Let us away from the webbed town-tangle, where monstrous Mammon is reigning</span> +<span class="i2">Over the small cheap souls of slaves, sudden to cringe and swift to serve;</span> +<span class="i2">Let us go out from the clanging Gates, the squalour of strife and the sordid straining,</span> +<span class="i2">Let us go out by the open road with feet that falter not nor swerve.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come! and away to the Garden of Pan, and hear what the Pipes are playing!</span> +<span class="i2">Hark to the Voice of a splendid Peace calling from hill and river and sea!</span> +<span class="i2">Come! and away to the old Earth Mother, giver of gifts without the praying,</span> +<span class="i2">There, in the hills Her throne is set, and the thoughts of men are free.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="the_return" id="the_return"></a>THE RETURN</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I must go down to the little grey port that watches the western sea,</span> +<span class="i2">And wander again in the winding street that climbs the windy hill,</span> +<span class="i2">There I shall find in a jasmined porch a door set wide for me,</span> +<span class="i6">There I shall have my will.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">For a little window looks out by day on a blue unsleeping tide,</span> +<span class="i2">Where brown-sailed boats sweep up and down for the harvest of the deep;</span> +<span class="i2">And nightly beacons a twinkling light to wanderers scattered wide,</span> +<span class="i6">And guides them home to sleep.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And the flowing tide comes flooding in and chants around the quay</span> +<span class="i2">A roaring song from the Ocean's heart of the lands that are fair and far;</span> +<span class="i2">And the ebbing tide goes sobbing out, murmuring wistfully</span> +<span class="i6">Over the harbour bar.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There I shall stand among men who are strong with the strength of the wind and the wave,</span> +<span class="i2">And hold simple talk with men who are wise with the wisdom of sky and sea;</span> +<span class="i2">There I shall find in a patient endurance the sure-set faith of the brave,</span> +<span class="i6">There shall my heart be free.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="in_the_bay" id="in_the_bay"></a>IN THE BAY</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The schooner swells its sails for the far-off seas,</span> +<span class="i3">The steamer pounds proudly far away,</span> +<span class="i2">But I'd sooner be ascudding in a ten-knot breeze</span> +<span class="i3">In my little lug and mizzen in the bay.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The schooner sings the wind's song from Bristol to Brazil,</span> +<span class="i3">The steamer knows the whole World's way,</span> +<span class="i2">But I can see a cottage on a windy hill</span> +<span class="i3">From my little lug and mizzen in the bay.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The schooner's up to hatches with her pig-iron, coal, and mud,</span> +<span class="i3">The steamer, plugged with cargo, heaves away,</span> +<span class="i2">But I can whiffle mackerel as through the waves I scud</span> +<span class="i3">In my little lug and mizzen in the bay.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O! living in a schooner is like living in a tree,</span> +<span class="i3">And a steamer's like a big hotel to-day,</span> +<span class="i2">If I had my choice of sailing, I know I'd soonest be</span> +<span class="i3">In my little lug and mizzen in the bay.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="sea-foam" id="sea-foam"></a>SEA-FOAM</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The once-flashed beauty borne on a breaking wave</span> +<span class="i3">Dies to a requiem sung on the sounding shore;</span> +<span class="i2">Beyond all reach of mortal power to save</span> +<span class="i3">In spray-crowned glory it passes for evermore.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Would that the heart could capture and hold and keep</span> +<span class="i3">The glory of beauty, sped in a moment's space!</span> +<span class="i2">Could fix for ever the splendour and strength and sweep</span> +<span class="i3">Of the wind-wild wave, in its riotous rapturous race!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Brave brief hopes, are you not sped as the wave—</span> +<span class="i3">Sped to a requiem sighed on a wreck-strewn shore?</span> +<span class="i2">While memory murmurs in dreams that you once were brave,</span> +<span class="i3">And sadness softly sighs that you are no more.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="echoes" id="echoes"></a>ECHOES</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">By the way of blowing roses, in the laughter-laden years,</span> +<span class="i3">Happy lads and lightsome lasses tripped the song-sweet lanes with me;</span> +<span class="i2">Gladness woke the hillside echoes in the sound of ringing cheers,</span> +<span class="i3">Rapture rippled on the breezes sweeping from the rippled sea.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Happy lads have left the hillside for a bourne beyond the bay,</span> +<span class="i3">Lightsome lasses know not laughter hid beneath enduring stone;</span> +<span class="i2">Echoes of a strangled sorrow in the sea mist far away,</span> +<span class="i3">Haunt the lanes where song is silent and the roses all are blown.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="a_ballade_of_cornwall" id="a_ballade_of_cornwall"></a>A BALLADE OF CORNWALL</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Westward where the latest sunbeam lingers on the brow of night,</span> +<span class="i3">Lies a land of old romance enshrined in amethystine sea,</span> +<span class="i2">Where from cairn and cromlech come, to eyes illumed by subtle sight,</span> +<span class="i3">Fays and pixies, sprites and gnomes, in pomp of faery pageantry.</span> +<span class="i3">Shining forms of ghostly knights, and dream-like dames of chivalry</span> +<span class="i2">Gleam among the gorse and furze, and pace the reedy valleys low,</span> +<span class="i3">Moving through a magic mist amid the days of long ago—</span> +<span class="i2">Knights and ladies living still in trusted legendary lore</span> +<span class="i3">Lilt their lovelorn lays or speed their clamorous challenge to the foe</span> +<span class="i5">In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn shore.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Gauntly glooms Tintagel Castle from its frowning, dizzy height,</span> +<span class="i3">Where the fair Iseult is crooning happy songs in thoughtless glee;</span> +<span class="i2">Softly falls the creeping footstep, sudden flash the sparks of spite,</span> +<span class="i3">Lifeless lies the love-led Tristram lowly at his lady's knee,</span> +<span class="i3">Past the stress of wandering sorrow, past the philtred esctasy.</span> +<span class="i2">Then there breaks the sound of slaughter, clanging blow on clanging blow,</span> +<span class="i3">Clash of brand and crash of axe, while shrieks shrill up from deeps below,</span> +<span class="i2">Where the sea's majestic music mixes with the mortal roar.</span> +<span class="i3">Still the ghostly field engages, still the tides of battle flow</span> +<span class="i5">In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn shore.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Down the rugged slopes of Rough Tor ancient heroes armour dight,</span> +<span class="i3">Charge across the bridge of slaughter where the mist hangs heavily.</span> +<span class="i2">There the brand Excalibur goes flashing through the last dim fight</span> +<span class="i3">Wielded by the stainless king who fighting falls his wierd to dree.</span> +<span class="i3">Then across the mere there come a silent, shadowy, queenly, three,</span> +<span class="i2">Golden crowned, who bear him off with bitter tears of quenchless woe</span> +<span class="i3">Unto valleyed Avilon, where falls not rain, nor hail, nor snow,</span> +<span class="i2">Nor the faith unfaithful brings a dolorous doom for ever-more.</span> +<span class="i3">Still across the dream lit waters moves the stately shadow show</span> +<span class="i5">In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn shore.</span> +</div></div> + +<h2><i>ENVOI</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Friend, these smiling buds of fancy you may gather as you go.</span> +<span class="i2">Still the fairy bells are ringing in the evening's afterglow;</span> +<span class="i2">Still the questing knights adventure over mountain, stream, and moor;</span> +<span class="i2">All the ancient splendid beauty understanding hearts may know</span> +<span class="i4">In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn shore.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="the_fishermans_prayer" id="the_fishermans_prayer"></a>THE FISHERMAN'S PRAYER</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Pray God, hear our prayer;</span> +<span class="i2">Keep us in Thy calm of care;</span> +<span class="i2">Lead us where the haul be good,</span> +<span class="i2">So our fishing find us food;</span> +<span class="i2">Give us strength our nets to haul</span> +<span class="i2">And safe to harbour bring us all.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Pray God, Whose Son did know</span> +<span class="i2">Fishermen and sea below,</span> +<span class="i2">And Who calmed the tempest when</span> +<span class="i2">Terror came to fishermen,</span> +<span class="i2">Hear us when for help we call,</span> +<span class="i2">And safe to harbour bring us all.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Pray God, Who made the sea,</span> +<span class="i2">Hear the fishers' prayer to Thee.</span> +<span class="i2">Steer us clear of shoal and reef,</span> +<span class="i2">So our boat may bear no grief;</span> +<span class="i2">Bear us up through storm and squall,</span> +<span class="i2">And safe to harbour bring us all.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Pray God, Who shines afar</span> +<span class="i2">Like a friendly pilot star,</span> +<span class="i2">Help us set our course aright</span> +<span class="i2">By Thy Holy Beacon Light,</span> +<span class="i2">For the Port where live the blest,</span> +<span class="i2">And in Thy Harbour give us rest.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>DISTINCTIVE NEW POETRY</h2> + +<p>The notable nature of the Erskine Macdonald books +may be gauged from the following current list:</p> + +<p>Cor Cordium</p> + +<blockquote><p>A Book of Love Poems. By Alfred Williams. +Large 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Nature and other Poems</p> + +<blockquote><p>By Alfred Williams (Author of "Songs in Wiltshire.") +Large 8vo, cloth, 5s. net.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>The price of "Songs in Wiltshire," (published at 5s.) has been +advanced to 7s. 6d. net. "Poems in Wiltshire" has gone out of +print.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Times.</i>—"Wonder and astonishment are great words with +great associations. But there are few men living in England today +of whom they can be more fairly used, in their most exact and +literal sense, than of Mr. Alfred Williams...."</p> + +<p><i>The Observer.</i>—"Those who love poetry look out for the work of +Alfred Williams. His poems have the fragrance and simplicity +that come from a strong, sincere mind that is in close touch with +nature."<br /></p> + +<p>Enchantments</p> + +<blockquote><p>By John Gurdon (Author of "Erinna," "Dramatic +Lyrics," etc.) Large crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. net.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>The Times.</i>—"Finely-coloured nature pictures or eloquent +expressions of passionate emotion, with a recurrent note of +melancholy."</p> + +<p><i>Manchester Guardian.</i>—"Mr. Gurdon's verses are always accomplished, +their rhythm is extremely sensitive and well sustained, +their imagery vivid and harmonious."</p> + +<p><i>The Outlook.</i>—"There is no mistaking who are Mr. Gurdon's +masters. He has spent his days and nights with Swinburne and +Keats, and learnt from them the intoxication of fine rhythms and +passionate phrases.... Through all the verses in this little +volume there is that thing which only the real poets have—a +sense of freedom in verse and a great joy in writing it."<br /></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Erskine Macdonald</span>, London, W.C.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p>Transcriber's Note: Punctuation has been normalized.</p> +<p>This book contains dialect.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cornish Catches, by Bernard Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORNISH CATCHES *** + +***** This file should be named 38565-h.htm or 38565-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/5/6/38565/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Stephanie McKee and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +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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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/38565-h/images/scribe.png b/38565-h/images/scribe.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5efbf96 --- /dev/null +++ b/38565-h/images/scribe.png diff --git a/38565.txt b/38565.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..516560b --- /dev/null +++ b/38565.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2198 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cornish Catches, by Bernard Moore + +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: Cornish Catches + and Other Verses + +Author: Bernard Moore + +Release Date: January 13, 2012 [EBook #38565] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORNISH CATCHES *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Stephanie McKee and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + CORNISH CATCHES + + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE. + + +The Author begs to thank the Editors of the following papers for their +courtesy in allowing him to reprint some of the poems in this book:--The +_Academy_, _Country Life_, _Fry's Magazine_, the _Grand Magazine_, the +_Sphere_, _T.P's Magazine_, the _Vineyard_, the _Windsor Magazine_, the +_Western Morning News_, and the _Westminster Gazette_. + + +_Hutton, Advertiser Press, Ormskirk._ + + + + + CORNISH CATCHES + + AND OTHER VERSES + + BY + + BERNARD MOORE + + [Illustration] + + LONDON + + ERSKINE MACDONALD + + 1914 + + + + +TO MY MOTHER. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + Well, there 'tis 9 + + Gardens 10 + + Grocery 12 + + Eddication 14 + + Jenny 16 + + In the Kittereen 17 + + Maids 18 + + Cap'n John 19 + + Dolly Pentreath 20 + + Sunday 22 + + Granfer's Proverbs 24 + + Seining Song 25 + + How be'ee, me deear? 26 + + What have'ee catched? 27 + + A Mevagissey Haul 28 + + Dicky 30 + + The Old Fisherman's Lament 31 + + A Looe Lay 32 + + On the Kay 33 + + Riches 34 + + A Fireside Spell 35 + + Cornish Comfort 36 + + I mind me 37 + + Sure 'nuff 38 + + The Garment of Time 40 + + In a Garden 41 + + Sorrow's Courage 42 + + A Choosing 43 + + Star Signs 44 + + The Old Knight's Song 45 + + Fealty 47 + + Treasure Trove 48 + + Roses and Rue 49 + + Definitions 50 + + Blue Sky 51 + + Shadows 52 + + When I was a Lad 53 + + A Call 55 + + The Return 56 + + In the Bay 58 + + Sea Foam 59 + + Echoes 60 + + A Ballade of Cornwall 61 + + The Fisherman's Prayer 63 + + + + +WELL, THERE 'TIS + + + Well, there 'tis. You wakes up cryin' an' callin', + You'm cold an' hungered, an' skeered o' the turble dark; + It feels most like a gert black cloud's a fallin' + To crunch you to nothin', an' leave you smuttered an' stark. + But a kind hand comes when the gert black clouds would drownd you, + An' a warm breast holds you tight to cuddle an' kiss, + An' you know that the world o' Love be all around you. + Well! there 'tis. + + Then you grows a bit, and you finds a mort o' pleasure + In the rush o' the waves an' the roarin' wind in the sky; + An' you plays your games at Pirates seekin' treasure, + Or Penny-come-quick when the Breton Boys go by. + An' you don't much trouble at difrent kinds o' weather, + If 'tis sunny 'tis sunny, but rain won't make you miss + The chance to trample away thro' the moorland heather; + Well! there 'tis. + + But you keeps on growin', an' then you begin in a fashion + To want some things you'd never a thought on before; + An' you sees some eyes be blue, an' you gets a passion + For jest a very perticlar cottage door. + An' you don't feel tired at the end o' the day o' toilin' + So long as it ends with the sound an' song of a kiss, + So long as it ends with arms round you coilin'; + Well! there 'tis. + + Then you grows old, an' at last you falls on sleepin'. + Do you count you'll be all alone in the turble dark? + Do you think you'll be left to the sound o' wailin' an' weepin' + Lonely an' cold in the cloam, unmothered an' stark? + When you was a baby, helpless an' cryin' an' callin' + Didn' the kind arms take, an' the warm lips kiss? + An' won't there be Arms at last, to save you from fallin'? + Well! there 'tis. + + + + +GARDENS + + + Passun he've a garden, 'tis trim an' nate an' vitty, + He'm mortal proud o' growin' things that's turble hard to grow; + He'm mighty fond of orchises an' mazed for pellygomiuns, + An' calls 'em all furrin' names us don't belong to know. + + Squire, he have a garden, a gert an' gorjus garden, + With hollyhocks a standin' like soljers in the sun; + He likes tremenjus peonies, an' roses crowdin' arches, + An' thinks as what the passun grows the whishtest sort o' fun. + + Feyther have a garden, but don't run much to flowers, + For he've to think o' tatties, an' useful sort o' things; + His cabbages be famous, an' his collyflowers a wonder, + An' you should see the runners when they'm scarlet on the strings! + + But I've a finer garden than the squire or the passun; + 'Tis all along the hedgerows, an' all about the lanes; + It stretches up the hillside an' spreads acrost the moorland, + 'Tis sweet with Cornish sunshine an' green with Cornish rains. + + There's scent of honeysuckle shakin' sweet along the sunshine, + An' ragged robins sprinklin' scarlet stars among the grass, + An' foxgloves, with a peal o' bells a swingin' in the steeple, + A ringin' fairy music to the breezes as they pass. + + An' where the lanes climb up along, an' break upon the moorland, + The heather weaves a carpet all acrost the purple hills; + An' gorse gleams in the sunshine like a thousand burnin' bushes, + An' birds shout happy answers to the ripplin' o' the rills. + + So squire may keep his garden, an' his gardeners a diggin', + An' passun's clanely welcome to the flowers he counts so fine, + (I won't say nort o' feyther's, for his tatties be so mealy), + But the bestest of all gardens is the garden that is mine. + + + + +GROCERY + + + John Pengelly be a clever man, + An' he keeps a grocery store; + He've got a seat on the Burryin' Board, + An' a sow as turns three score; + On Sunday night he holds the plate + An' on Thursday shuts at four. + + He talks to Passon on clover crops, + An' Farmer Hain on Sin; + An' keeps the Parish Register, + An' a dog that isn' thin; + An' wears a watch-chain on his chest, + An' a Moses beard on his chin. + + He allays takes the rhubarb prize + At the Flower Show every year; + An' if 'ee mind to order it + He'll get 'ee Bottled Beer; + (Though some as don't agree with that) + Besides it's rather dear. + + Two different kinds of lard he sells, + But awnly one of tay; + An' he've a yaller oilskin coat + He hopes to sell some day, + But the awnly man it might have fit + Was drownded out to say. + + His matches hang in a cabbage net, + An' his onions hang in strings; + An' allays at the Church Bazaar + He sells the Hooplar rings; + An' if us get a concert up + An' there's no one else, _he_ sings. + + So be you'm seekin' clever men, + Come down along o' we; + We'll show 'ee John Pengelly then + Behind his grocery; + An' when you taste his peppermints, + Sure 'nuff, tis mazed you'll be. + + + + +EDDICATION + + + Feyther sez as "Larnin' be the proper trade for boys," + An' so us have to go to school, an' dursn't make a noise, + But jest sits on a form an' hears what schoolmaister do say, + An' all the time we'm thinkin' how the boats go in the bay. + + There's different kinds o' larnin', an' there's some I can't abide, + They'm worse than swimmin' round the Main at ebbin' o' the tide. + I likes the tales o' travels an' at readin' do be praised, + An' I'm dacent doin' Adders, but Goseinters send me mazed. + + The Bible stories baint so bad excep' the fat head calf, + An' when schoolmaister tells of 'ee I allays wants to laugh; + Our Kitty likes the donkeys as was found by Sunno Kish, + But I likes best the tale about Ole Peter an' the fish. + + Schoolmaister knaws a mort o' things as baint a bit o' use; + I've heered un tell the biggest boys about high potty mews; + But if he had to earn his bread, the same as feyther do, + I count he'd soon belong to know it wasn' much he knew. + + One day he gave a sum about a herrin' an' a half, + An' sez as how the boys was rude when they began to laugh; + He must a been a bufflehead to think as people bought + _Half_ herrins, when we'm bringin' 'em by thousans into port. + + I'm allays sittin' thinkin' when he'm talkin' to the board, + About the many things there be a boy can larn aboard; + There's sheets to haul an' gear to staw an' reefs to take an' tie, + An' wind to watch acomin' in the corner of your eye. + + Now if they larned us some o' these, or how to bend a hook, + 'Twould be a darned sight usefuller than rubbige in a book; + But what's the good o' larnin' how to hold a scriggley pen, + An' spell a lot of orkard words, an' say to ten times ten? + + 'Tis little use to grumble when 'ee have to keep the rules, + An' jest so long as there be boys, I count there must be schools; + An' tho' they'm good for larnin' if 'ee awnly knaws the way, + I'd sooner be a whifflin' arter mack'rel in the bay. + + + + +JENNY + + + When Jenny goes a milkin' in the dewy time o' morn + I allays be contrivin' to be callin' at the farm, + For her cheeks be red as roses an' her hair like rippled corn, + An' I be fairly mazed to kiss the dimple on her arm. + + Jenny, Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee? You'm brighter far + than any star That's shinin' up above 'ee. Sartin sure, you + make me mazed, Iss, me deear, a whist an' crazed; Jenny, Jenny, + won't 'ee let me love 'ee? + + When Jenny goes to Fairin' with blue ribbons in her hair, + I count the Queen of England never looks a half as sweet, + An' when she'm in the Country dance no other maids be there, + For I never stops a glazin' at the twinkle of her feet. + + Jenny, Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee? + + Aw----But!!! + + When Jenny goes to Mittin' House dressed in her Sunday clo'es + She looks so like a hangell in her little pew apart, + That when I try to sing the hymns my throttle seems to close, + An' I cussn't hear the sermon for the beatin' of my heart. + + Jenny, Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee? You'm brighter far + than any star That's shinin' up above 'ee; Sartin sure, you + make me mazed, Iss, me deear, a whisht an' crazed; Jenny, + Jenny, won't 'ee let me love 'ee? + + + + +IN THE KITTEREEN (Kittereen: Cornish for a covered cart). + + + Jenny an' me in the Kittereen + Drove to Callington Fair; + There wasn' much more than a foot between + Jenny an' me in the Kittereen + For both of us was just thirteen, + An' of course us didn' care. + + Jenny an' me in the Kittereen + Drove from Callington Fair; + There wasn' much more than an inch between + Jenny an' me in the Kittereen + For both of us was just fifteen + With a packet of pops to share. + + Jenny an' me in the Kittereen + Drove to Callington Fair; + There wasn' much less than a yard between + Jenny an' me in the Kittereen + For both of us was just seventeen + An' both knew the other was there. + + Jenny an' me in the Kittereen + Drove from Callington Fair; + There was very much less than an inch between + Jenny an' me in the Kittereen + For wasn' we both of us turned nineteen? + An' wasn' there Love to share? + + + + +MAIDS + + + I've knawed a many o' Devon maids with cheeks merry an' red, + They'm pleasant an' 'ansum single, an' homely an' cosy wed; + But I shan't marry a Devon maid; I reckon I'd rather be dead. + + I've seed a many o' London maids abroad in London Town; + They'm larky an' flittery single, but marryin' calms 'em down; + But I shan't marry a London maid; I reckon I'd rather drown. + + For I have knawed the Cornish maids, an' like 'em best of any. + So take the London an' Devon maids, they'm goin' at two a penny; + An' I shan't marry nobody else, for I be tokened to Jenny. + + + + +CAP'N JOHN + + + Cap'n John has been to Frisky, + Injy an' Australy too; + Now he runs a lug-an'-mizzen + Arter Pilchers out o' Looe, + Iss, he do. + + Cap'n John was braave an' slippey + Till the say catched hold of he; + Now he'm tanned an' tough an' wrinkled, + Simming like mohogany. + Iss, he be. + + Cap'n John baint smurt an' 'ansum, + Like a claned up Sarvice Coor; + Stiff hair all aroun' his niddick + Makes him like a hedgaboor. + Iss, be Gor! + + Cap'n John don't boast o' beauty, + Beauty don't set down with tar; + But he've got a pair o' patches + Shows how dacent patches are. + Iss, with tar. + + Cap'n John thinks books is rubbige; + Sez that printin' spoils his eyes; + But he reads the book o' weather + Written in the say an' skies; + Iss, he's wise. + + Cap'n John, us looks towards 'ee, + Wish 'ee luck when shuttin' seine, + Wish 'ee tummals at the jowstin', + Wish 'ee out an' home again. + Clink you'm cider at the call, + "Cap'n John, an' One an' All." + + + + +DOLLY PENTREATH + + + Dolly Pentreath is dead an' gone, her stone stands up to Paul; + But Dolly Pentreath her still lives on in the hearts of One and All. + Her smoked an' snuffed, an' the cusses her knowed was mortal hard to + bate, + But her carried her creel like a Mousehole maid, an' allays selled + out her cate. + + Her wern't afeerd at livin' alone, an' many a tale is told, + As shows as how her face was brass, but her heart was true as gold. + One day a sailor had tooked his leave afore his leave was given, + An' knowed if they catched him the yard arm rope would show him the + way to Heaven, + + So he scatted to Dolly, an' jest in time her thought of the chimley + wide, + An' her collared him hold by the slack of his breeks an' shoved him + up inside. + Cussin' an' fussin' they searchers came, but awnly Dolly they sees, + Washin' her feet in her old oak keeve, with her petticoat up to her + knees. + + An' didn' her give them a tang o' tongue, an' didn' her cuss them + sweet, + For thinkin' her'd let a man bide there an' see her washin' her feet? + But her called the loudest cusses of all, an' scraiched like a rat + at a stoat, + When the sailor gave a chokely cough for the fuzzen smoke in his + throat. + + The storm her raised drove the buffleheads out a grumpling into the + street, + An' the sailor washed hisself in the keeve where Dolly had washed + her feet. + + * * * * * + + Dolly Pentreath is dead an' gone, her stone stands up to Paul; + But Dolly Pentreath her still lives on in the hearts of One and All. + + + + +SUNDAY IN THE CORNISH PORT + + + There b'aint no fishin' in the bay, + The boats be moored 'longside the kay, + With sails reefed in an' stawed away, + An' all so calm an' still-- + Excep' the ripple o' the tide, + An' gulls awheelin' up 'longside + The clifts, to where the Church do bide + Atop the Flag-staff Hill. + + Above the Slip where boats be moored + The cottage doors be set abroad, + An' singin' voices praise the Lord + For mercies which endure; + An' happy childer in the street, + Dressed all so vitty, clane, an' neat, + Puts somethin' in the music sweet + It didn' had before. + + Now every fisherman be dressed + In shiny suit o' black for best, + As fittin' to the Day o' Rest, + An' sign o' Death to Sin; + The jerseys in the lockers bide, + For Sunday knaws its proper pride, + An' likes to show a clane outside + To match the heart within. + + Mid mornin', Church bell clangs a call. + An' some don't take no heed at all, + But some goes up the hill to Paul, + An' some to Chapel goes; + Whilst some strolls down upon the kay, + An' sits an' spits into the say; + But all the same, they knaws the Day, + An' doesn' dirt their clo'es. + + But whether Church be right or b'aint, + Or Mittin' Houses make'ee faint, + Or whether you'm a solemn saint + Or jest a cheerful sinner, + For sartin, not so long by noon, + You'll all be playin' the same tune + Wi' knife an' fork an' mebbe spoon, + Asettin' down to dinner. + + Then mos'ly us do strawl away + Along the clifts that line the bay, + Though some prefers a dish o' tay + An' snooze along the settle; + But whether we'm been far or near, + We'm never losted, don't 'ee fear. + We'm allays home in time to hear + The singin' o' the kettle. + + An' when the Sun, a lantern red + Asinkin' at the World's mast-head, + Goes down, then us goes home to bed: + An' so us ends the Sunday. + For Sunday 'tis the Day o' days, + When all the fish do as 'em plaise, + While in the little port we prays + A banger catch for Monday. + + + + +GRANFER'S PROVERBS + + + Granfer sits in the winder an' looks acrost the bay; + Sure 'nuff he thinks a mort o' things tho' 'tis little he has to say. + 'Tis time he came to his moorin's an' heaved his gear ashore, + For the sea is a bit too chancy for a man gone eighty-four. + + He've catched a plenty of wisdom in the net inside his head, + An' often us be tellin' of the clever things he've said. + They'm cleverer nor things you read in books an' papers too, + Because he dosn' make 'em up, but awnly knaws they'm true. + + He've good advice for sailor lads who musn't come to grief: + "Don't try to shine you'm centrebit by cuts acrost the reef. + Don't make you'm mainsail fast an' look for mermaids on the lew, + An' don't take cider kegs aboard because they spile the view." + + He've good advice for all the maids whom lookin' arter lads: + "If you baint catchin' mackerel then be content with skads; + An' if you've tried the seinin' an' the fishes won't be took, + Just get a dacent bit o' bait, an' drop a line an' hook." + + He've good advice for husbands, which he tells them all alone: + "Go suant comin' into port an' watch the weather cone; + Jest keep your hellum stiddy if there's tokens of a squall-- + Cross words is nigh as useless as a porpus in the trawl." + + He've good advice for housewives but he keeps it to hisself: + For he knows they awnly puts it with the jowds upon the shelf; + His wisest words to women be the words he doesn' say, + For he jest sits in the winder an' looks acrost the bay. + + + + +A CORNISH SEINING SONG + + + The Huer is up on the cliff, me deears, + Glazing out to say; + Slip youm moorin's and ship youm gears, + There's Pilchers in the Bay; + Lift youm faistins on muggoty pie. + Down along an' away. + + 'Tisn the time for maids, me deears, + Don't 'ee be duffed by they; + There's lashins o' time to taise their ears + An' maze 'em wi' fal-de-lay. + They'll wait till arter the Pilcher's catched, + Down along an' away. + + Us'll be shuttin' soon, me deears, + There's purple on the say, + An' jowstin' this arternoon, me deears, + When us comes back to kay. + Who's for a banger, a bender haul + Down along an' away? + + Pilchers is budiful fried, me deears, + Or baked in a bussa o' clay, + So sterry away wi' the tide, me deears, + For Pilchers in the Bay. + Slip youm moorin's an' ship youm gears, + Down along an' away! + + + + +"HOW BE'EE, ME DEEAR?" + +(The Cornish Greeting). + + + "How be'ee, me deear?" I heard her say, + But I was foached to be far away, + For the breeze was braave an' the boat in the bay, + An' Granny was old an' grey. + + I didn' turn back to say "Good-bye," + For slottery weather was in the sky, + The anchor was up an' the punt stood by, + Yet Granny was old an' grey! + + Far I sailed, an' didn' I cast + Many a look at the old times past? + The lil' grey port as I saw it last? + An' Granny old an' grey? + + At last I came from the yowlin' main, + Guessin' to see the place again + Jest as it was, as nate an' plain, + An' Granny old an' grey. + + Why didn' I seed the end was nigh? + Why didn' I bide to say "Good-bye?" + It's too late now to make reply, + Granny is gone away. + + But someday beyond the farthest tide, + At last I shall safely at anchor ride, + An' I shall be hailed as I come 'longside, + "How be'ee, me deear?" + + + + +"WHAT HAVE'EE CATCHED?" + + + "What have'ee catched, lil' lad on the shore?" + "Shrimps an' a crayfish out o' the pool, + An' a tinful o' lugworms, a tidy score, + To scrig on the night lines after school." + + "What have'ee catched, lil' maid in the lane?" + "The scent o' the thyme an' the cheep of a bird, + An' the sound of a song that is joy an' pain, + But the sweetest song as ever I heard." + + "What have'ee catched, strong man from the say?" + "A seineful o' pilchers, a sailful o' foam, + An' a twenty-knot breeze from the nor'rard away, + That drove me a-scuddin' an' rollickin' home." + + "What have'ee catched, good dame by the door?" + "A lil' brown sail comin' with the tide, + That's bringin' back peace to my heart once more, + An' my man again to the chimley side." + + + + +A MEVAGISSEY HAUL + +(A million pilchards, August 6th, 1912). + + + A Sou' Sou' West was blowin' up to more than half a gale, + An' a prutty bit o' billow talked ashore, + But there baint no use for seiners as be afeared to sail, + When the catches have been runnin' light an' poor, + So we plugged out oar to oar. + Out along from old Mevagissey,-- + Beatin' out from old Mevagissey,-- + With a sky full o' scud blowin' over us, + An' a stiddy brazzle plonkin' at the bow. + + We shut the seine, an' watched the lights a dancin' green an' red, + An' wallowed first to starboard, then to port, + Until the dimsey touched the West, an' we was slowin' dead, + An' then we knawed 'twas tummals we had caught, + For the corks was bobbin' short. + Out along from old Mevagissey,-- + Low lay old Mevagissey,-- + When the grey dawn showed the shadows over us, + An' the brazzle came alippin' at the bow. + + We lugged the silver net aboard until the bilge was hid, + For crates was little use for such a haul, + An' then we let the main-sheet go, an' home along we slid, + With the hellum nearly buried in a squall, + But we didn' care at all. + For it was home along to old Mevagissey, + Back along to old Mevagissey, + With the dangers of the night blown over us, + An' A MILLION PILCHERS slitherin' below. + + We tacked into the harbour with the ground-say grindin' hard, + An' we bumped to berth at last 'longside the quay, + Which was chockered up with barrels so you couldn' step a yard, + When we brought our shinin' harvest from the say:-- + Now 'tis salt an' stawed away. + An' we'm home along in old Mevagissey, + Home again in old Mevagissey, + With the cloud o' winter care blown over us, + Whatever winter winds may blow. + + + + +DICKY + + + A year agone, a year agone, our Dicky sailed away; + A blue light danced about his eyes like sunshine on the bay, + He whissled passin' down along, his heart was glad an' gay, + A year agone, a year agone, when Dicky sailed away. + + A year agone! a year agone! The time do speed so fast, + It scairce do seem a year agone we saw our Dicky last; + It seems as if his steps must come aclatterin' to the door, + An' he be claimin' payment with his breakfast for the score. + + He loved the lanes in springtime an' he loved them at the fall, + But when the honeysuckle bloomed he loved them best of all; + I mind me how he had a sprig stuck in his cap that day, + A year agone, a year agone, when Dicky sailed away. + + There wasn' lad was handier at stawin' of a sail, + There wasn' lad was cheerfuller at stemmin' through a gale, + There wasn' lad was heartier at fishin' or at play, + A year agone, a year agone, when Dicky sailed away. + + A many ships come into port along the flowin' tide, + A many lads come home again an' safe in harbour ride, + But all in vain we watch for one, an' all in vain we pray. + + * * * * * + + A year agone, a year agone, our Dicky sailed away! + + + + +THE OLD FISHERMAN'S LAMENT + + + 'Tis well an' fine for the steam-trawler to sweep the floor of the say, + But 'tis turble hard for the fisherman as awnly sails the Bay, + For the fish gets scaircer an' scaircer an' hardly ait at all, + An' what's to be catched with the seinin' be barely wuth the haul. + + Us used to count on the herrin's to buy us Chris'mus cheer, + But the catch runs lighter an' lighter, an' pervisions be allays dear, + An' what us gets in the crab-pots that don't take long to sell, + Especial when most of the pots be gone on a long ground swell. + + 'Tis a whisht poor life for a lad to lead, an' mos'ly they wont abide, + But sterry away to the furrin' ports athurt a keenly tide, + An' us be left, all lone an' long, to moil as best us may, + While the clankin' trawler steams along, an' sweeps the floor of + the say. + + + + +A LOOE LAY + + + Ole Sammy took fish from Downderry to Looe; + Jest the darnedest thing that Ole Sammy could do; + An' nobody knawed what Ole Sammy was thinkin' + For when he got there the fish was a stinkin'. + + He cried them in stores an' he cried them in housen, + But no one would have them at tuppence a thousan'; + He cried them in Fore Street an' then on the Pier, + But folks said as "Nothin' was tuppence too dear." + + Sure awnly a saftie would ever be carin' + To pay for the fish when they'd had such a airin'! + An' any regreater deserve to be stranded + For carryin' fish to the port where they'm landed! + + So Sammy went homeways from Looe to Downderry, + An' on to Torpoint an' acrost by the ferry, + An' up along Plymouth, remarkable flish, + He selled out to wance all his basket of fish. + + 'Tis sartin that 'tis, an' can't be no 'tisser, + Us knaws fish an' fish from the Rame to the Lizzer; + What's hansun for Devon for us doesn' do, + So don't 'ee be carryin' fish into Looe. + + + + +ON THE KAY (QUAY). + + + As I was bendin' a hook one day + A furriner* strawled along the kay. + + His cheeks was white as gannet's wing, + An' he looked a whisht an' wakely thing. + + His clo'es was nate an' spickety span, + But I sez to meself "Now there's a man!" + + An' I sez to meself "Now look at his legs, + They'm like a couple o' crabpot pegs." + + An' I sez to meself "A bit of a squall + Would blow his bones to the end of all." + + An' I sez--but I didn' had time to say + For a scraitch went up from the end o' the kay, + + Where a cheeld was aswingin' jest afore, + An' now there wasn' no cheeld no more, + + Then a'most afore I could see him go, + That furriner sprang in the say below. + + He couldn' swim much, but he keeped afloat + Jest while I tumbled into the boat, + + An' I hooked him up an' lugged him aboard, + An' he had that cheeld clipped tight as cord. + + He trembled an' shook, he was wake an' white, + But he awnly sez "Is the kid alright?" + + Sure 'nuff, an' he simmed to understand + When I gived him a hearty shake o' the hand. + + I started abendin' the hook agen, + An' I sez "There's different looks to men, + + Braave hearts in whisht poor bodies bide, + An' looks don't count to what's inside." + + [Footnote *: To Cornishmen, non-Cornish are "furriners."] + + + + +RICHES + + + Miss Tregear be a whisht poor woman, + With her big fine house an' her carriage an' pair; + Her keeps four maids, not countin' the tweeny, + An' another especial to do her hair. + + Ruth Penwarne be a braave rich woman; + Her lives in a cottage with a warpley door; + Her've got four childer, not countin' the baby, + An' there baint no tellin' but her might have more. + + Miss Tregear have a room for dinin', + An' a room for drawin', where her doesn' draw, + An' a room where books be shut in cupboards, + An' others us don't knaw what they'm for. + + Ruth Penwarne have a little linhay, + An' there her washes when the rain be nigh, + But when 'tis sunny her goes in the garden, + An' spreads her clo'es on the fuzzen to dry. + + Miss Tregear have a pile o' carpets; + Her be frit of a moth or a speck o' dust; + Her be feared that the sun will spile her curtains, + An' the damp will make her fire-irons rust. + + Ruth Penwarne have a fine stone kitchen; + An' two rooms aloft as be crammed with beds; + Her don't have carpets, so they can't get dirty, + An' her soon clanes up where the childer treads. + + Miss Tregear have a face that's lonely; + Her be often sad, tho' her can't tell why; + Her be allays asayin there's nothin' doin', + An' thinks how slow all the days go by. + + Ruth Penwarne haven't time for thinkin', + With makin' an' mendin' an' scrubbin' too, + An' sartin sure, she'm a braave rich woman, + With childer an' home an' her work to do. + + + + +A FIRESIDE SPELL + + + "I've spanked young Tom an' sent him to bed, an' I reckon it sarves + him right; + For 'tisn no use asayin' things when the rope's end baint in sight, + An' he shouldn' go steerin' out along when the tide is runnin' away, + I've telled him afore; I cussn't keep on atellin' him every day." + + "Now when I was a boy--" "Iss, when you was a boy, you was jest + such a scalliant too, + All'ays athinkin' o' darin' things as you didn' belong to do. + Climbin' they clifts for saygulls' eggs or clambering ower the crags + An' heavin' tuffs at the cormorants, an' shyin' stones at the shags." + + "But when I was a boy--" "Iss, when you was a boy you worried you'm + mother a mort, + I mind how'ee tried to swim out to the Point, an' how in the race'ee + was caught; + I know they had dared'ee at doin' their dags, but dags didn' keep'ee + afloat, + An' the say 'ud have catched'ee that mornin', sure 'nuff, if they + hadn' raced out with the boat." + + "Well, mebbe I was jest sich a limb, as'ee says, an' all'ays full + sail for a game, + An' I reckon as boys will be boys when they'm boys, but grows into + men what are tame, + An' when Tom is a feyther alarnin' _his_ son to feel the weight of + _his_ hand, + Mebbe he'll fergive me for spankin' him now, an' remember, an' + understand." + + + + +CORNISH COMFORT + + + "Don't 'ee cry, lil' maid, 'tis awnly a broken bussa; + The jowds won't mend, best lave the attle abide. + There's tummals o' bussas left, an' it might be wusser." + But the lil' maid cried. + + "Don't 'ee cry, li'l maid. If fellows gets changy and chancy, + Tomorrow a braaver will come than the totle who stepped. + Floshed milk baint no use, an' it isn' wuth scrowlin', I fancy." + Still the lil' maid wept. + + "Don't 'ee cry, li'l maid--Iss, the Say be a terrible net, + An' 'tis wearisome waitin' a meetin' beyont the Big Tide; + Jest try to catch sleep on you'm pellaw, mebbe you'll forget." + Still the lil' maid cried. + + "Don't 'ee cry did un say? Well, youm feyther jest wanted to cheer'ee, + But men doesn' knaw where the best cup o' comfort is kept. + Cuddle down; cry it out on you'm own mother's bosom, me dearie." + Then the lil' maid slept. + + + + +"I MIND ME" + + + I mind me of the cottage where I used to bide + Just above the harbour on the steep hill-side; + Cobbled was the cause'y to the jasmined door + That looked into the kitchen with the grey stone floor. + + I mind me of the dresser with the chainy white, + An' the gurt big Bible as was read aSunday night; + An' the old cloam tay-pot with the broken spout + As wanted suant dealin' at the pourin' out. + + I mind the quiet mornin's an' the tickin' o' the clock, + An' the brath upon the brandiss in the steamin' crock; + An' the goin' of the shadows an' the comin' of the day, + An' the startin' in the dimsey for the fishin' in the bay. + + I mind me of the night-times an' wind whisslin' drear, + An' the scraitchin' o' the shingle when I couldn' slape for fear; + An' the groanin' gropin' darkness with norra gleam nor star, + An' the boom of the billows on the harbour bar. + + But the cosy chimley corner, I mind it best of all, + With the smell of tatie pasties from the oven in the wall, + An' the crackle of the fuzzen with the billies on the blow, + An' the ring o' ruddy faces in the hearth-fire glow. + + The cottage still is lookin' from the hill across the bay; + Above the cobbled cause'y swings the jasmine spray; + But the gleam o' ruddy faces an' the hearth-fire glow + Went out in the darkness long long ago. + + + + +"SURE 'NUFF" + + + Sure 'nuff, 'twas good when I was a lad + To be in a boat in the bay; + To whiffle the mack'rel, hook the chad, + And haul at the nets away; + 'Twas good to feel the wind in my face, + An' scud through a tumble o' foam, + An' see far off the twinklin' lights + Of the lil' grey port, an' home. + An' 'twas good to climb in the craggy clifts + Where the guillemot raired her brood, + An' go with a laugh in the heart all day; + Sure 'nuff, 'twas good! + + Sure 'nuff, 'twas good when I wandered away, + An' saw that the world was wide, + In the wunnerful lands beyont the say, + An' the ports where the big ships ride. + 'Twas good to meet men who could strive an' seek, + An' didn' knaw nort o' fear, + An' hail 'em a word in passin' by, + An' answer 'em back with a cheer. + 'Twas good to be sailin' the way o' the world, + An' standin' where strong men stood, + An' counted awhile as a man among men; + Sure 'nuff, 'twas good! + + Sure 'nuff, 'tis good, with voyagin' done, + To be anchored in port at last, + An' watch the boys go, one by one, + As I did in days long past; + 'Tis good to set in the cottage door, + An' gaze at the sky an' say, + An' knaw that I fared on the flood tide once, + Now 'tis fallin' away; + An' 'tis good to have time to make ready to sail + On the voyage that leads to rest; + An' I trust a Pilot Who will not fail. + Sure 'nuff, 'tis best! + + + + +II. + + + + +THE GARMENT OF TIME + + + The giant Image of Eternal Time + Sits throned amidst the Infinite of Space; + And through the aeons, passing chime by chime, + Heeds not our Race. + + Meanwhile we weave upon his robes' array + Embroideries of doubts and hopes and fears, + The golden threads of laughter by the way, + Grey threads of tears. + + Careless sits Time of garment grey or gold, + Although our passionate labours never cease + Till weaving hands are weary and we grow old. + And pass to peace. + + And who that gazes on that garb of Time + Shall in the far light of a distant day + Catch aught of colour of song or rune of rhyme? + Shall all be grey? + + Yet till the end fall--and the day close, + Let me weave in the web of pain and the woof of tears + The colour of sun-bright seas and the red of the rose, + In my Loom of Years. + + + + +IN A GARDEN + + + A twilight peace droops tenderly, + The discords of the day depart, + And through the hush there comes to be + A harmony within the heart; + And waking to the quivering strings + Spirits are touched to finer things. + + Sweet hand-fast silences of eve, + When love's supremest note is heard + In symphonies the spirits weave + Beyond the need of mortal word, + O! may we keep your music when + We pace the noisy haunts of men. + + Give us the strength for daily stress + Of toil about the busy world; + Give us a balm to bitterness + From wounds when cruel shafts are hurled; + And give us courage in a sense + Of Love's divine omnipotence. + + For Life can never lonely be + Since Love has broken all the bars + That stayed the soul from unity + With Heaven and its ten thousand stars, + Whose music falls sublimely grand + Through silences of hand in hand. + + + + +SORROW'S COURAGE + + + I have loved Beauty. I have seen the sun + Flash snowy mountain tops to shimmer of gold; + I have heard songs where little waters run + Chiming with music that the stars have rolled. + + I have loved Beauty. I have seen the sea + Fringe with its silver all the golden shore; + Have heard it crooning music ceaselessly + To ancient tunes frayed from the tempest's roar. + + I have loved Beauty. I have seen a smile + Shine from sweet eyes, fair as the sea's own blue, + Whose magic lashes seemed to lift awhile + To send a kindly comrade spirit through. + + I have loved Beauty. But nor sun nor sea + Nor stars have charactered God's chiefest grace; + Beyond all other things there beacons me + The star-led pilgrim courage of your face. + + + + +A CHOOSING + + + Under the turf the blind mole creeps, + And moulds the mounds of molehill kind. + Above, the skylark soars and sweeps, + The song is swept upon the wind. + + To-morrow's eyes the mounds may see; + To-morrow they will mark the plain. + But none shall hear the ecstasy + Of song, that cannot be again. + + Well built, old mole! A little heap + To linger to a later day! + Something to show you once did creep + In darkness through your earthy way. + + Yet with the lark's glad song of Love + May mine on wandering winds be hurled, + In happy regions far above + The dull mad molehills of the world. + + Still let my song be all in all, + Though Earth-born discords soon destroy, + And on no mortal ear may fall + The music of immortal joy. + + Break, Spirit, break to boundless things + Beyond the molehill and the clod, + And catch the glory of the strings + That tune the harmonies of God. + + + + +STAR SIGNS + + + Primal swirl of the Chaos, out of your nebulous Night + Eddied the primal tides, as the Mind of God decreed, + And the Word of the ultimate Source spake forth "Let there be Light," + And all the Firmament blazed with the dust of the star-sown seed. + + Strong and stately and splendid, thronging the limitless spaces. + Ye are the silver signs to a House not made with hands; + Ye are the Mystic Scroll, where the Mighty Maker traces + Thoughts that the passionate poet dimly understands. + + Day, with its drouth and drosses, shrivels our fragile souls, + And, witched with its transient gauds, to the perilous earth we + cling, + But ever the tender night its infinite page unrolls, + And the star-led mind aspires to the Throne of the star-robed King. + + + + +THE OLD KNIGHT'S SONG + + + My lady lives afar in the fair white tower + Hid, like a nest, high among branches swaying. + "Peaceful thoughts be her portion, dreams her dower," + Here am I on my knees, praying. + + To the Winds of the World from the hills and the sea far blowing, + That they carry their strength to her heart for sorrow's staying, + That they bring clear hopes and the gladness of freedom flowing, + Here am I on my knees, praying. + + To the Lamp of Day, that the aureate beauty breaking + Find answering smiles in her eyes for the fair displaying + Of colour of gold on the way my Lady is taking, + Here am I on my knees, praying. + + To the sentinel Stars through the infinite spaces sweeping, + Guarding the night, and terrors of darkness slaying, + That they bring sweet Peace to the dreams of my Lady sleeping, + Here am I, on my knees praying. + + But my casque is rusted with Time, and my breastplate battered, + My hauberk worn with ancient fighting and fraying; + Dull is my shield, my banner faded and tattered. + Here am I on my knees, praying. + + Here at an outpost, here is my patrol duty: + My Lady's train is for Knights of a fair arraying; + Only from far may I guard her, loving her beauty: + Here am I on my knees, praying. + + Wandering lights have I followed, the one Light questing, + I have wearied through difficult paths and long delaying; + Perilous peaks have I scaled with feet unresting; + Here I am on my knees, praying. + + Star-like my Lady shines in her fair white tower. + "Let nothing come nigh her to lead to her joy's betraying, + No cloud dull aught of the golden dreams, her dower." + Here am I on my knees, praying. + + + + +FEALTY + + + When my Lady hath Pleasure and friends to spare, + And riot of roses strewed in her path of days, + And laughter ringing carillons into the air, + She needs not me; I travel the lonely ways. + + When my Lady hath Youth uplifting a song + Like the twitter of birds in a springtime hawthorn bough, + And round her the notes of a merry-mad music throng, + She needs not me; my music is sad and low. + + But when my Lady hath Sorrow to stress her heart, + And Pain brings up to her eyes the ghosts of fear, + And the music of Youth, and Laughter and Joy depart, + Then she will need me: and lo! am I not here? + + Here I stand at the gateway and vigil keep, + Waiting the summoning sob or the calling sigh; + Swift to assuage her tears should my Lady weep; + Happy if sorrow for ever may pass her by. + + + + +TREASURE TROVE + + + You did not know that, gazing on your face, + I took its Beauty to my heart for ever, + Where it illumines every day with grace, + Though Time and tides may sever. + + You did not know that, looking in your eyes, + I found their Truth, beyond all need for speaking, + And knew their gentleness a paradise + Worth all a wide world's seeking. + + You did not know that every word you spoke + Told me the Courage in your heart abiding, + And bade me watch, where through the cloud-rifts broke + One steady star for guiding. + + You did not know. But in my heart I know, + The Beauty, Truth, and Courage that enfold you: + And when we part I do not let you go: + Thus in my heart I hold you. + + + + +ROSES AND RUE + + + You gave me roses, you have given me Rue. + Yet to the Roses memoried fragrance clings, + And in their faded petals I renew + The first fresh grace of unforgotten things. + + God give you Roses all along the way. + So will I wear contentedly the Rue; + And when I greet you with a smile, I pray + Shade of my sorrow never fall on you. + + + + +DOGMA + + + Reason's unreasoned castle of defence + With turrets towering into far-off skies, + Whose superstructure, solid and immense, + Is built on shadows and on mysteries. + + + + +CREED + + + Not with light straws, swift swept upon the stream, + Not with light foam, blown up along the shore, + In calm unmeasured deeps my jewels gleam, + Hid in my heart of hearts for evermore. + + + + +RELIGION + + + The one cool joy of all life's broiling day; + The one sweet star that gleams where saints have trod; + The one clear stream beside the dusty way + That leads to God. + + + + +PIETY + + + A quiet garment for eternal wear, + Designed above frail fashion's mortal dress, + Worked with a web of faith, a woof of prayer, + Coloured with love and fair with gentleness. + + + + +BLUE SKY + +(From the French of Marcel Doran). + + + O! weary waste of shoreless blue + Where weary wing may never rest! + O! awful brightness burning through + The barrier of the gate of rest! + My spirit longs to reach the strand + Of sorrow-soothing shadowland. + + But what can this poor spirit wear + To hide the naked wounds, pain-kissed + Beneath the searching, ceaseless glare + Of cloudless burning amethyst? + Where can the sad grey spirit fly + The unrelenting agony? + + O! for some shadow-haunted stream + Where tired eyes might fall asleep, + And in the peace of darkling dream + See Sorrow's pageant homeward creep, + Feel angel hands with white caress + Soothe eyelids dark with heaviness! + + O! for some minster where the balm + Of cooling touch my wounds might heal; + Where always dwells a Sabbath calm, + Made sweeter by the solemn peal + Of bells, that trembling fill the air + With noble notes of perfect prayer! + + + + +SHADOWS + + + Shadows, the pale grey wings of night, + Sweep over the sky, + And low in the west the lingering light + Wanes--like a sigh + From the fervent heart of the day + Passing away: + Then afar + Shineth a star. + + Shadows, the pale grey wings of Death, + Sweep over my heart; + And far in the dark a voice calleth, + "Come ye, depart." + There lingers no light from the day + Passing away, + But afar + Shineth a Star! + + + + +WHEN I WAS A LAD + + + When I was a lad in Petherick + I often lay me down + And built a beautiful city + And called it London Town. + I filled its streets with heroes + Beautiful strong and wise, + Men who were kings and princes, + Women with kindly eyes. + I spent the gold of the charlock + For paving the city street; + I saw bright flags awaving + Over the billowing wheat; + And loud in the brown bee's buzzing + I heard the far-off hum + Of the mart and the busy merchants, + And the wharves where the big ships come. + When I was a lad in Petherick + I often lay me down, + And built this wonderful city, + And called it London Town. + + * * * * * + + Now I'm a man in London-- + Golden dreams I had + Of a golden city of London + Long since when I was a lad. + Here on the long grey pavement + I seek that city still + But there isn't much gold in Fleet Street, + Or glamour on Ludgate Hill. + For the hurrying men look haggard, + And the women have weary eyes, + And the voices of pale-faced children + Mingle in fretful cries. + + There's gold in the field of charlock, + There's gold on the billowing wheat, + And the bee sucks golden honey + In lanes where the flowers are sweet. + And small ships sail in the distance + To a golden bourne in the west, + And the gentle peace of twilight + Is the purest gold of rest. + + * * * * * + + Dreams of the man in London! + Useless dreams and sad, + Of the far-off village of Petherick + And the far-off Cornish lad. + + + + +A CALL + + + Let us go out to the Garden of Pan, and hear what the Pipes are + playing; + Let us go out where the ancient hills mother the rivers that run to + the sea; + Let us go out where the wind wanders, tuning amid the trees + swaying, + Let us go out to the wider world where the thoughts of men are free. + + There on the hills the eye may see the changeless Beauty changing + On sun-splashed grass and wavering corn, verdant valley and rolling + down, + Clouds steal up from a far-off tryst, like Titans into battalions + ranging, + And the splendid Sun-god marching on to crown the world with a + golden crown. + + Here in the City the voices are hoarse. Here is calling and crying, + Lust and longing for pride of place, vanity, pomp, and the strain of + strife; + Here in the City sobs arise from the battered hosts of the falling + and dying, + Who know not Peace, nor the End of Peace; who know not Life, nor the + End of Life. + + Let us away from the webbed town-tangle, where monstrous Mammon is + reigning + Over the small cheap souls of slaves, sudden to cringe and swift to + serve; + Let us go out from the clanging Gates, the squalour of strife and the + sordid straining, + Let us go out by the open road with feet that falter not nor swerve. + + Come! and away to the Garden of Pan, and hear what the Pipes are + playing! + Hark to the Voice of a splendid Peace calling from hill and river + and sea! + Come! and away to the old Earth Mother, giver of gifts without the + praying, + There, in the hills Her throne is set, and the thoughts of men are + free. + + + + +THE RETURN + + + I must go down to the little grey port that watches the western sea, + And wander again in the winding street that climbs the windy hill, + There I shall find in a jasmined porch a door set wide for me, + There I shall have my will. + + For a little window looks out by day on a blue unsleeping tide, + Where brown-sailed boats sweep up and down for the harvest of the deep; + And nightly beacons a twinkling light to wanderers scattered wide, + And guides them home to sleep. + + And the flowing tide comes flooding in and chants around the quay + A roaring song from the Ocean's heart of the lands that are fair and + far; + And the ebbing tide goes sobbing out, murmuring wistfully + Over the harbour bar. + + There I shall stand among men who are strong with the strength of + the wind and the wave, + And hold simple talk with men who are wise with the wisdom of sky + and sea; + There I shall find in a patient endurance the sure-set faith of the + brave, + There shall my heart be free. + + + + +IN THE BAY + + + The schooner swells its sails for the far-off seas, + The steamer pounds proudly far away, + But I'd sooner be ascudding in a ten-knot breeze + In my little lug and mizzen in the bay. + + The schooner sings the wind's song from Bristol to Brazil, + The steamer knows the whole World's way, + But I can see a cottage on a windy hill + From my little lug and mizzen in the bay. + + The schooner's up to hatches with her pig-iron, coal, and mud, + The steamer, plugged with cargo, heaves away, + But I can whiffle mackerel as through the waves I scud + In my little lug and mizzen in the bay. + + O! living in a schooner is like living in a tree, + And a steamer's like a big hotel to-day, + If I had my choice of sailing, I know I'd soonest be + In my little lug and mizzen in the bay. + + + + +SEA-FOAM + + + The once-flashed beauty borne on a breaking wave + Dies to a requiem sung on the sounding shore; + Beyond all reach of mortal power to save + In spray-crowned glory it passes for evermore. + + Would that the heart could capture and hold and keep + The glory of beauty, sped in a moment's space! + Could fix for ever the splendour and strength and sweep + Of the wind-wild wave, in its riotous rapturous race! + + Brave brief hopes, are you not sped as the wave-- + Sped to a requiem sighed on a wreck-strewn shore? + While memory murmurs in dreams that you once were brave, + And sadness softly sighs that you are no more. + + + + +ECHOES + + + By the way of blowing roses, in the laughter-laden years, + Happy lads and lightsome lasses tripped the song-sweet lanes with me; + Gladness woke the hillside echoes in the sound of ringing cheers, + Rapture rippled on the breezes sweeping from the rippled sea. + + Happy lads have left the hillside for a bourne beyond the bay, + Lightsome lasses know not laughter hid beneath enduring stone; + Echoes of a strangled sorrow in the sea mist far away, + Haunt the lanes where song is silent and the roses all are blown. + + + + +A BALLADE OF CORNWALL + + + Westward where the latest sunbeam lingers on the brow of night, + Lies a land of old romance enshrined in amethystine sea, + Where from cairn and cromlech come, to eyes illumed by subtle sight, + Fays and pixies, sprites and gnomes, in pomp of faery pageantry. + Shining forms of ghostly knights, and dream-like dames of chivalry + Gleam among the gorse and furze, and pace the reedy valleys low, + Moving through a magic mist amid the days of long ago-- + Knights and ladies living still in trusted legendary lore + Lilt their lovelorn lays or speed their clamorous challenge to the foe + In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned + rock-strewn shore. + + Gauntly glooms Tintagel Castle from its frowning, dizzy height, + Where the fair Iseult is crooning happy songs in thoughtless glee; + Softly falls the creeping footstep, sudden flash the sparks of spite, + Lifeless lies the love-led Tristram lowly at his lady's knee, + Past the stress of wandering sorrow, past the philtred esctasy. + Then there breaks the sound of slaughter, clanging blow on clanging + blow, + Clash of brand and crash of axe, while shrieks shrill up from deeps + below, + Where the sea's majestic music mixes with the mortal roar. + Still the ghostly field engages, still the tides of battle flow + In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned + rock-strewn shore. + + Down the rugged slopes of Rough Tor ancient heroes armour dight, + Charge across the bridge of slaughter where the mist hangs heavily. + There the brand Excalibur goes flashing through the last dim fight + Wielded by the stainless king who fighting falls his wierd to dree. + Then across the mere there come a silent, shadowy, queenly, three, + Golden crowned, who bear him off with bitter tears of quenchless woe + Unto valleyed Avilon, where falls not rain, nor hail, nor snow, + Nor the faith unfaithful brings a dolorous doom for ever-more. + Still across the dream lit waters moves the stately shadow show + In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned + rock-strewn shore. + + +_ENVOI_ + + + Friend, these smiling buds of fancy you may gather as you go. + Still the fairy bells are ringing in the evening's afterglow; + Still the questing knights adventure over mountain, stream, and moor; + All the ancient splendid beauty understanding hearts may know + In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned + rock-strewn shore. + + + + +THE FISHERMAN'S PRAYER + + + Pray God, hear our prayer; + Keep us in Thy calm of care; + Lead us where the haul be good, + So our fishing find us food; + Give us strength our nets to haul + And safe to harbour bring us all. + + Pray God, Whose Son did know + Fishermen and sea below, + And Who calmed the tempest when + Terror came to fishermen, + Hear us when for help we call, + And safe to harbour bring us all. + + Pray God, Who made the sea, + Hear the fishers' prayer to Thee. + Steer us clear of shoal and reef, + So our boat may bear no grief; + Bear us up through storm and squall, + And safe to harbour bring us all. + + Pray God, Who shines afar + Like a friendly pilot star, + Help us set our course aright + By Thy Holy Beacon Light, + For the Port where live the blest, + And in Thy Harbour give us rest. + + + + +DISTINCTIVE NEW POETRY + +The notable nature of the Erskine Macdonald books may be gauged from the +following current list: + + +Cor Cordium + + A Book of Love Poems. By Alfred Williams. Large 8vo, cloth, 3s. + 6d. net. + + +Nature and other Poems + + By Alfred Williams (Author of "Songs in Wiltshire.") Large 8vo, + cloth, 5s. net. + +_The price of "Songs in Wiltshire," (published at 5s.) has been advanced +to 7s. 6d. net. "Poems in Wiltshire" has gone out of print._ + +_The Times._--"Wonder and astonishment are great words with great +associations. But there are few men living in England today of whom they +can be more fairly used, in their most exact and literal sense, than of +Mr. Alfred Williams...." + +_The Observer._--"Those who love poetry look out for the work of Alfred +Williams. His poems have the fragrance and simplicity that come from a +strong, sincere mind that is in close touch with nature." + + +Enchantments + + By John Gurdon (Author of "Erinna," "Dramatic Lyrics," etc.) + Large crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. net. + +_The Times._--"Finely-coloured nature pictures or eloquent expressions +of passionate emotion, with a recurrent note of melancholy." + +_Manchester Guardian._--"Mr. Gurdon's verses are always accomplished, +their rhythm is extremely sensitive and well sustained, their imagery +vivid and harmonious." + +_The Outlook._--"There is no mistaking who are Mr. Gurdon's masters. He +has spent his days and nights with Swinburne and Keats, and learnt from +them the intoxication of fine rhythms and passionate phrases.... Through +all the verses in this little volume there is that thing which only the +real poets have--a sense of freedom in verse and a great joy in writing +it." + + +ERSKINE MACDONALD, London, W.C. + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + +Punctuation has been normalized. Italics have been denoted using +underscores, and small capitals have been replaced by capitals in this +text version. + +This book contains dialect. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cornish Catches, by Bernard Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORNISH CATCHES *** + +***** This file should be named 38565.txt or 38565.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/5/6/38565/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Stephanie McKee and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +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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