 | The Poetical Works of Eliza Cook |  |
Here she comes with broidered kirtle; here she is—the Lady June,
Singing, like a ballad minstrel, many a gay and laughing tune.
Let us see what she is dressed in—let us learn the “mode” she brings—
For maiden never looked so lovely, though she wear but simple things.
Singing, like a ballad minstrel, many a gay and laughing tune.
Let us see what she is dressed in—let us learn the “mode” she brings—
For maiden never looked so lovely, though she wear but simple things.
See, her robe is richly woven of the greenest, forest leaves,
With full boughs of honeysuckle looping up the flowing sleeves.
See, the fragrant marsh-flag plaited forms her yellow tasselled sash,
With the diamond studs upon it, flung there by the river's splash.
See her flounces—widely swelling, as the Zephyr's wings go past,
Made of roses, with the woodbine's perfumed thread to stitch them fast.
See the foxglove's bell of crimson and the poppy's scarlet bud
'Mid her tresses, bright and vivid as the sunset's ruby scud.
See the fresh and luscious bouquet that she scatters in her way,
It is nothing but a handful she has snatched of new-mown hay.
See, her garments have been fashioned by a free and careless hand,
But tell me, have you seen a Lady look more beautiful and grand?
With full boughs of honeysuckle looping up the flowing sleeves.
See, the fragrant marsh-flag plaited forms her yellow tasselled sash,
With the diamond studs upon it, flung there by the river's splash.
See her flounces—widely swelling, as the Zephyr's wings go past,
Made of roses, with the woodbine's perfumed thread to stitch them fast.
See the foxglove's bell of crimson and the poppy's scarlet bud
'Mid her tresses, bright and vivid as the sunset's ruby scud.
See the fresh and luscious bouquet that she scatters in her way,
It is nothing but a handful she has snatched of new-mown hay.
See, her garments have been fashioned by a free and careless hand,
But tell me, have you seen a Lady look more beautiful and grand?
Yon old man has quite forgotten what his errand was, I ween;
As he stares with listless pleasure, on her garment-folds of green.
Busy dealers pause a moment in their hurry after gain;
Thinking there is something joyous in her trolling, carol strain.
Youths and maidens track her closely, till their footsteps blithely mingle,
In the field and by the streamlet, up the hill and through the dingle;
Children fondly gather round her, prying into leaf and blossom,
Pilfering, with tiny fingers, jewels from her very bosom.
As he stares with listless pleasure, on her garment-folds of green.
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Thinking there is something joyous in her trolling, carol strain.
Youths and maidens track her closely, till their footsteps blithely mingle,
In the field and by the streamlet, up the hill and through the dingle;
Children fondly gather round her, prying into leaf and blossom,
Pilfering, with tiny fingers, jewels from her very bosom.
Here she comes with fairy footsteps, chanting ever as she runs,
Ditty words that soothe the mournful, and enchant the happy ones:
Here she comes with broidered kirtle, and we'll list what Lady June
May be telling out so sweetly, in that merry, dancing tune.
Ditty words that soothe the mournful, and enchant the happy ones:
Here she comes with broidered kirtle, and we'll list what Lady June
May be telling out so sweetly, in that merry, dancing tune.
| The Poetical Works of Eliza Cook | |