 | A Selection from the Works of Frederick Locker |  |
140
ARCADIA.
The healthy-wealthy-wise affirm
That early birds secure the worm,
(The worm rose early too!)
Who scorns his couch should glean by rights
A world of pleasant sounds and sights
That vanish with the dew:
That early birds secure the worm,
(The worm rose early too!)
Who scorns his couch should glean by rights
A world of pleasant sounds and sights
That vanish with the dew:
141
One planet from his watch released
Fast fading from the purple east,
As morning waxes stronger;
The comely cock that vainly strives
To crow from sleep his drowsy wives,
Who would be dozing longer.
Fast fading from the purple east,
As morning waxes stronger;
The comely cock that vainly strives
To crow from sleep his drowsy wives,
Who would be dozing longer.
Uxorious Chanticleer! and hark!
Upraise thine eyes, and find the lark,—
The matutine musician
Who heavenward soars on rapture's wings,
Though sought, unseen,—who mounts and sings
In musical derision.
Upraise thine eyes, and find the lark,—
The matutine musician
Who heavenward soars on rapture's wings,
Though sought, unseen,—who mounts and sings
In musical derision.
From sea-girt pile, where nobles dwell,
A daughter waves her sire “farewell,”
Across the sunlit water:
All these I heard, or saw—for fun
I stole a march upon that sun,
And then upon that daughter.
A daughter waves her sire “farewell,”
Across the sunlit water:
All these I heard, or saw—for fun
I stole a march upon that sun,
And then upon that daughter.
This Lady Fair, the county's pride,
A white lamb trotting at her side,
Had hied her through the park;
A fond and gentle foster-dam—
May be she slumbered with her lamb,
Thus rising with the lark!
A white lamb trotting at her side,
Had hied her through the park;
A fond and gentle foster-dam—
May be she slumbered with her lamb,
Thus rising with the lark!
142
The lambkin frisked, the lady fain
Would coax him back, she called in vain,
The rebel proved unruly;
I followed for the maiden's sake,
A pilgrim in an angel's wake,
A happy pilgrim truly!
Would coax him back, she called in vain,
The rebel proved unruly;
I followed for the maiden's sake,
A pilgrim in an angel's wake,
A happy pilgrim truly!
The maid gave chase, the lambkin ran
As only woolly truant can
Who never felt a crook;
But stayed at length, as if disposed
To drink, where tawny sands disclosed
The margin of a brook.
As only woolly truant can
Who never felt a crook;
But stayed at length, as if disposed
To drink, where tawny sands disclosed
The margin of a brook.
His mistress, who had followed fast,
Cried, “Little rogue, you're caught at last;
I'm cleverer than you.”
Then straight the wanderer conveyed
Where wayward shrubs, in tangled shade,
Protected her from view.
Cried, “Little rogue, you're caught at last;
I'm cleverer than you.”
Then straight the wanderer conveyed
Where wayward shrubs, in tangled shade,
Protected her from view.
And timidly she glanced around,
All fearful lest the slightest sound
Might mortal footfall be;
Then shrinkingly she stepped aside
One moment—and her garter tied
The truant to a tree.
All fearful lest the slightest sound
Might mortal footfall be;
Then shrinkingly she stepped aside
One moment—and her garter tied
The truant to a tree.
143
Perhaps the World may wish to know
The hue of this enchanting bow,
And if 'twere silk or lace;
No, not from me, be pleased to think
It might be either—blue or pink,
'Twas tied—with maiden grace.
The hue of this enchanting bow,
And if 'twere silk or lace;
No, not from me, be pleased to think
It might be either—blue or pink,
'Twas tied—with maiden grace.
Suffice it that the child was fair,
As Una sweet, with golden hair,
And come of high degree;
And though her feet were pure from stain,
She turned her to the brook again,
And laved them dreamingly.
As Una sweet, with golden hair,
And come of high degree;
And though her feet were pure from stain,
She turned her to the brook again,
And laved them dreamingly.
Awhile she sat in maiden mood,
And watched the shadows in the flood,
That varied with the stream;
And as each pretty foot she dips,
The ripples ope their crystal lips
In welcome, as 'twould seem.
And watched the shadows in the flood,
That varied with the stream;
And as each pretty foot she dips,
The ripples ope their crystal lips
In welcome, as 'twould seem.
Such reveries are fleeting things,
Which come and go on whimsy wings,—
As kindly Fancy taught her
The Fair her tender day-dream nurst;
But when the light-blown bubble burst,
She wearied of the water;
Which come and go on whimsy wings,—
As kindly Fancy taught her
The Fair her tender day-dream nurst;
But when the light-blown bubble burst,
She wearied of the water;
144
Betook her to the spot where yet
Safe tethered lay her captured pet,
But lifting, with a start, her
Astonished gaze, she spied a change,
And screamed—it seemed so very strange! . .
Cried Echo,—“Where's my garter?”
Safe tethered lay her captured pet,
But lifting, with a start, her
Astonished gaze, she spied a change,
And screamed—it seemed so very strange! . .
Cried Echo,—“Where's my garter?”
The blushing girl her lamb led home,
Perhaps resolved no more to roam
At peep of day together;
If chance so takes them, it is plain
She will not venture forth again
Without an extra tether!
Perhaps resolved no more to roam
At peep of day together;
If chance so takes them, it is plain
She will not venture forth again
Without an extra tether!
A fair white stone will mark this morn,
I wear a prize, one lightly worn,
Love's gage—though not intended—
Of course I'll guard it near my heart,
Till suns and even stars depart,
And chivalry has ended.
I wear a prize, one lightly worn,
Love's gage—though not intended—
Of course I'll guard it near my heart,
Till suns and even stars depart,
And chivalry has ended.
Dull World! I now resign to you
Those crosses, stars, and ribbons blue,
With which you deck your martyrs:
I'll bear my cross amid your jars,
My ribbon prize, and thank my stars
I do not crave your garters.
Those crosses, stars, and ribbons blue,
With which you deck your martyrs:
I'll bear my cross amid your jars,
My ribbon prize, and thank my stars
I do not crave your garters.
| A Selection from the Works of Frederick Locker | |