The coming of love :: :: University of Virginia Library

(Percy on hoard “The Petrel” in a tropic calm.)
I hear our blackbirds singing in our grove,
And now I see—I smell—the eglantine—
The meadow-sweet where rivulets laugh and shine
To English clouds that laugh and shine above;
I feel a stream of maiden-music move,
Pouring through all my frame a life divine
From Rhona's throbbing bosom claspt to mine—
From that dear harp, her heart, whose chords are love!
Vanished!—
O God! a blazing world of sea—
A blistered deck—an engine's grinding jar—

Hot scents of scorching oil and paint and tar—
And, in the offing up yon fiery lee,
One spot in the air no bigger than a bee—
A frigate-bird that sails alone afar!
(He takes from his pocket and reads a letter from Rhona which reached him in Australia.)

THE LETTER

On Christmas-eve I seed in dreams the day
When Herne the Scollard comed and said to me,
Hes off, that rye

Gentleman.

o yourn, gone clean away
Till swallow-time; hes left this letter: see!
In dreams I heerd the bee and grasshopper,
Like on that mornin, buz in Rington Hollow,
Shell live till swallow-time and then shell mer,

Die.

For never will a rye

Gentleman.

come back to her
Wot leaves her till the comin o the swallow.

All night I heerd them bees and grasshoppers;
All night I smelt the breath o grass and may,
Mixed sweet wi smells o honey from the furze,
Like on that mornin when you went away;
All night I heerd in dreams my daddy sal,

Laugh.

Sayin, De blessed chi

Girl,

ud give de chollo

Whole.

O Bozzles breed—tans, vardey, greis, and all—

Tents, waggons, horses. Back.

To see dat tarno rye o hern palall
Wots left her till the comin o the swallow.

I woke and went a-walkin on the ice
All white with snow-dust, just like sparklin loon,

Salt.

And soon beneath the stars I heerd a vice,
A vice I knowed and often, often shoon

Hear.

;
And then I seed a shape as thin as tuv

Smoke.

;
I knowed it wur my blessed mammys mollo

Spirit.

.
Rhona, she sez, that tarno rye you love,

Hes thinkin on you; dont you go and rove

Weep.

;
Youll see him at the comin o the swallow.
Sez she, For you it seemed to kill the grass
When he wur gone, and freeze the brooklets ghyllies

Songs.

;
There wornt no smell, dear, in the sweetest kas

Hay.

,
And when the summer brought the waterlilies,
And when the sweet winds waved the golden giv

Wheat

,
The skies above em seemed as bleak and kollo

Black.

As now, when all the world seems frozen yiv

Snow.

.
The months are long, but mammy sez youll live
By thinkin o the comin o the swallow.

She sez, The whinchat soon wi silver throat
Will meet the stonechat in the buddin whin,
And soon the blackcaps airliest ghyllie ull

Song.

float
From light-green boughs through leaves a-peepin thin;
The wheat-ear soon ull bring the willow-wren,
And then the fust fond nightingale ull follow,
A-callin Come, dear, to his laggin hen
Still out at sea, the spring is in our glen;
Come darlin, wi the comin o the swallow.

And she wur gone! And then I read the words
In mornin twilight wot you rote to me;
They made the Christmas sing with summer birds,
And spring-leaves shine on every frozen tree;

And when the dawnin

Red.

kindled Rington spire,
And curdlin winter-clouds burnt gold and lollo
Round the dear sun, wot seemed a yolk o fire,
Another night, I sez, has brought him nigher;
Hes comin wi the comin o the swallow.

And soon the bull-pups found me on the Pool—
You know the way they barks to see me slide—
But when the skatin bors o Rington scool
Comed on, it turned my head to see em glide.
I seemed to see you twirlin on your skates,
And somethin made me clap my hans and hollo;
Its him, I sez, a-chinnin

Cutting.

o them eights.
But when I woke-like—Im the gal wot waits
Alone, I sez, the comin o the swallow.

Comin seemed ringin in the Christmas-chime;
Comin seemed rit on everything I seed,
In beads o frost along the nets o rime,
Sparklin on every frozen rush and reed;
And when the pups began to bark and play,
And frisk and scrabble and bite my frock and wallow
Among the snow and fling it up like spray,
I sez to them, you know who rote to say
Hes comin wi the comin o the swallow.

The thought ont makes the snow-drifts o December
Shine gold, I sez, like daffodils o spring
Wot wait beneath: hes comin, pups, remember;
If not—for me no singin birds ull sing:
No chorin chiriklo

Cuckoo.

ull hold the gale

Wi Cuckoo, cuckoo, over hill and hollow:
Therell be no crakin o the meadow-rail,
Therell be no jug-jug o the nightingale,
For her wot waits the comin o the swallow.

Come back, minaw

Mine own.

, and you may kiss your han
To that fine rawni

Lady.

rowin on the river;
Ill never call that lady a chovihan

Witch.

,
Nor yit a mumply gorgie

Miserable gentile.

—Ill forgive her.
Come back, minaw: I wur to be your wife.
Come back—or, say the word, and I will follow
Your footfalls round the world: Ill leave this life
(Ive flung away a-ready that ere knife)—
Im dyin for the comin o the swallow.

Mostly pronounced “mullo,” but sometimes in the East Midlands “mollo.”

Mostly pronounced “kaulo,” but sometimes in the East Midlands “kollo.”

The gypsies are great observers of the cuckoo, and call certain Spring winds “cuckoo storms,” because they bring over the cuckoo earlier than usual.