 | The fairy changeling and other poems |  |
63
A FRIEND IN NEED
Who has room for a friend
Who has money to spend,
And a goblet of gold
For your fingers to hold,
At the wave of whose hand
Leap the salmon to land,
Drop the birds of the air,
Fall the stag and the hare.
Who has room for a friend
Who has money to lend?
We have room for a friend!
Who has money to spend,
And a goblet of gold
For your fingers to hold,
At the wave of whose hand
Leap the salmon to land,
Drop the birds of the air,
Fall the stag and the hare.
Who has room for a friend
Who has money to lend?
We have room for a friend!
Who has room for a friend
Who has nothing to lend,
When the goblet of gold
Is as far from his hold
As the fleet-footed hare,
Or the birds of the air.
Who has room for a friend
Who has nothing to spend?
We know not such a friend.
Who has nothing to lend,
When the goblet of gold
Is as far from his hold
As the fleet-footed hare,
Or the birds of the air.
Who has room for a friend
Who has nothing to spend?
We know not such a friend.
70
MY NEIGHBOUR'S GARDEN
Why in my neighbour's garden
Are the flowers more sweet than mine?
I had never such bloom of roses,
Such yellow and pink woodbine.
Are the flowers more sweet than mine?
I had never such bloom of roses,
Such yellow and pink woodbine.
Why in my neighbour's garden
Are the fruits all red and gold,
While here the grapes are bitter
That hang for my fingers' hold?
Are the fruits all red and gold,
While here the grapes are bitter
That hang for my fingers' hold?
Why in my neighbour's garden
Do the birds all fly to sing?
Over the fence between us
One would think 'twas always spring.
Do the birds all fly to sing?
Over the fence between us
One would think 'twas always spring.
I thought my own wide garden
Once more sweet and fair than all,
Till I saw the gold and crimson
Just over my neighbour's wall.
Once more sweet and fair than all,
Till I saw the gold and crimson
Just over my neighbour's wall.
But now I want his thrushes,
And now I want his vine,
If I cannot have his cherries
That grow more red than mine.
And now I want his vine,
If I cannot have his cherries
That grow more red than mine.
71
The serpent 'neath his apples
Will tempt me to my fall,
And then—I'll steal my neighbour's fruit
Across the garden wall.
Will tempt me to my fall,
And then—I'll steal my neighbour's fruit
Across the garden wall.
| The fairy changeling and other poems | |