Flower o' the thorn A book of wayside verse: By John Payne |
 |
|
A FRIEND FROM OVERSEA. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
|
 | Flower o' the thorn |  |
11
A FRIEND FROM OVERSEA.
DULL is the day;
My thoughts are grey
As it, my soul as ill at ease:
My darkling mood
To-day no food
For comfort finds in grass or trees.
My thoughts are grey
As it, my soul as ill at ease:
My darkling mood
To-day no food
For comfort finds in grass or trees.
Here, where I sit,
The shadows flit,
Sad thoughts like, o'er the landscape's face:
Like them, for lack
Of sun their track
To gild, my dreams are scant of grace.
The shadows flit,
Sad thoughts like, o'er the landscape's face:
Like them, for lack
Of sun their track
To gild, my dreams are scant of grace.
Sad is the sky,
The breeze a sigh
That barely stirs the lisping leaves:
For its dead dreams
And hopes, meseems,
As I for mine, the grey year grieves.
The breeze a sigh
That barely stirs the lisping leaves:
For its dead dreams
And hopes, meseems,
As I for mine, the grey year grieves.
“I've had my day,”
It seems to say;
“New years must reap what I have sown:
Like thee, but wind
In hand I find;
Like thee, I live and die alone.”
It seems to say;
“New years must reap what I have sown:
Like thee, but wind
In hand I find;
Like thee, I live and die alone.”
Yet, as, despite
The Autumn's blight,
Spring's promise in the breeze one feels,
So, unprepense,
A secret sense
Of sympathy upon me steals.
The Autumn's blight,
Spring's promise in the breeze one feels,
12
A secret sense
Of sympathy upon me steals.
It is as some
Affection dumb,
Some tender thought about me stirred,
Some love too meek
Of mind, too weak
Of wit to give its wishes word.
Affection dumb,
Some tender thought about me stirred,
Some love too meek
Of mind, too weak
Of wit to give its wishes word.
Nay, what is this
With kiss on kiss
That doth my falling fingers ply?
What velvet tongue
My hand down-hung
Goes greeting with caresses shy?
With kiss on kiss
That doth my falling fingers ply?
What velvet tongue
My hand down-hung
Goes greeting with caresses shy?
It is, meseems,
As if in dreams
Some phantom friend, some spirit-love,
My hand, with care
My sleep to spare,
With kisses covered like a glove.
As if in dreams
Some phantom friend, some spirit-love,
My hand, with care
My sleep to spare,
With kisses covered like a glove.
No whit, for fear
It disappear,
I stir nor look to left or right.
The things that thus
Do visit us
Are swift to scare and put to flight.
It disappear,
I stir nor look to left or right.
The things that thus
Do visit us
Are swift to scare and put to flight.
13
But, as I take
No note and make
No sign nor yet mine eyes to see
Turn, in the end
My unknown friend
Makes bold to climb up to my knee.
No note and make
No sign nor yet mine eyes to see
Turn, in the end
My unknown friend
Makes bold to climb up to my knee.
A nose appears,
Two silken ears,
Two great round eyes à fleur de tête,
As soft and bright
And full of light
As ever shone in spaniel's pate:
Two silken ears,
Two great round eyes à fleur de tête,
As soft and bright
And full of light
As ever shone in spaniel's pate:
No sign of claws;
Two feathered paws,
A coat of shaggy silken brown,
A tilted snout,
A child-like pout;
A lapdog 'tis from Pekin town.
Two feathered paws,
A coat of shaggy silken brown,
A tilted snout,
A child-like pout;
A lapdog 'tis from Pekin town.
A moment there,
With nose in air,
It bides, half doubtful of some trap;
Then, as no part
I stir, new heart
It takes and leaps upon my lap.
With nose in air,
It bides, half doubtful of some trap;
Then, as no part
I stir, new heart
It takes and leaps upon my lap.
Its pretty head,
Though half in dread
To startle it, I stroke and pat.
No fear it shows;
'Tis plain it knows
The friend of dog and child and cat.
Though half in dread
To startle it, I stroke and pat.
No fear it shows;
'Tis plain it knows
The friend of dog and child and cat.
14
From side to side,
For very pride
It rolls and joy to be caressed:
With whines and sighs
And child-like cries
Of love, it nestles to my breast.
For very pride
It rolls and joy to be caressed:
With whines and sighs
And child-like cries
Of love, it nestles to my breast.
Why, little friend,
What kind Gods send
You thus to me from China far?
By the Great Wall
You heard Love's call;
You said, “He's sad;” and here you are.
What kind Gods send
You thus to me from China far?
By the Great Wall
You heard Love's call;
You said, “He's sad;” and here you are.
Scant English you
In Pekin knew;
But love still love is overseas
And good and kind
Are words to find
Alike in English and Chinese.
In Pekin knew;
But love still love is overseas
And good and kind
Are words to find
Alike in English and Chinese.
Strange, seems it not?
My grief's forgot;
The clouds of care that did oppress
For me Life's sky
Are scattered by
A little dog's unsought caress.
My grief's forgot;
The clouds of care that did oppress
For me Life's sky
Are scattered by
A little dog's unsought caress.
Such is Love's power;
In my dark hour,
His humble messenger He sent,
Whose gentle touch
From Sorrow's clutch
Sufficed for my enfranchisement.
In my dark hour,
His humble messenger He sent,
15
From Sorrow's clutch
Sufficed for my enfranchisement.
Thanks, at the least,
My pretty beast,
To thee I owe, that hast to-day,
With thy dumb love,
Prevailed above
My cares and driven my dole away.
My pretty beast,
To thee I owe, that hast to-day,
With thy dumb love,
Prevailed above
My cares and driven my dole away.
So fare thee well!
Though (who can tell?)
We never meet again, indeed,
I'll ne'er my debt
To thee forget
For love and comfort in my need.
Though (who can tell?)
We never meet again, indeed,
I'll ne'er my debt
To thee forget
For love and comfort in my need.
Scarce worth, you'll say,
The telling!—Nay,
Life without love is sorry stuff;
And be't but that
Of dog or cat,
To lighten sorrow Love's enough.
The telling!—Nay,
Life without love is sorry stuff;
And be't but that
Of dog or cat,
To lighten sorrow Love's enough.
| Flower o' the thorn | |