Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
Our Village at Daybreak.
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
Our Village at Daybreak.
'T is daybreak over the village; I look from the rustic inn,
And watch the widening sunshine its day's bright march begin,
As the burnished clouds turn fiery red, and the lark awakes his kin.
And watch the widening sunshine its day's bright march begin,
As the burnished clouds turn fiery red, and the lark awakes his kin.
In the very heart of the village, where the double hammer rings,
You hear the joyful blackbird in the parson's croft that sings,
Where the thankless wasp sucks at the grapes, yet, while they feed him, stings.
You hear the joyful blackbird in the parson's croft that sings,
Where the thankless wasp sucks at the grapes, yet, while they feed him, stings.
The cobbler, up an hour ere dawn, carols long psalms all through,
Stitching away with prying eyes at the miller's daughter's shoe;
She's the deftest foot in the country-side, and beauty enough for two.
Stitching away with prying eyes at the miller's daughter's shoe;
She's the deftest foot in the country-side, and beauty enough for two.
The waggon-team went jingling out a good half-hour ago;
The sturdy lad, who smacked the whip, seemed to be all of a glow;
The ploughman's horses stride along, broad-chested, in a row.
The sturdy lad, who smacked the whip, seemed to be all of a glow;
The ploughman's horses stride along, broad-chested, in a row.
The cock crows shrill; the lark is up, the rooks are loud on the tree;
The flowers are out; the brook chirps on, each happy in its degree;
And the ripples of red run over the sky as the wind shouts in its glee.
The flowers are out; the brook chirps on, each happy in its degree;
And the ripples of red run over the sky as the wind shouts in its glee.
Now the doors slip back their trusty bolts, and the shutters rattle down;
Glad faces look up at the morning sky, and voices fill the town,
While drowsy girls at the village pump brim up the pitcher brown.
Glad faces look up at the morning sky, and voices fill the town,
While drowsy girls at the village pump brim up the pitcher brown.
Day's up; and I must sally out for many a happy mile,
Through flowery lanes, by river-sides, resting at many a stile,
(A vagrant artist, on the tramp), and singing all the while.
Through flowery lanes, by river-sides, resting at many a stile,
(A vagrant artist, on the tramp), and singing all the while.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |