 | A Summer Christmas and a Sonnet upon The S.S. "Ballaarat." |  |
Kit said, “Professor you can tell
A good ghost story very well:
But is it true?” He shook his head.
“I would not vouch it. Dunmail's dead,
If e'er he lived, and no one sights
His host on any other nights.
I can't say more: the legend's old,
And on the Cumbrian mountains told
Close by the cairn. Your course is clear,
If you want more, to take ship there,
And on the trysting night camp out
On Mount Helvellyn. It's about
As cold a place and cold a time
As any in the English clime.”
Kit laughed back that she'd “take his word,
And treat as gospel all she heard,”
And fearing Phil, and sparing Lil
Her dear Professor, challenged Will
To billiards, while the scouted one
Fell back upon Maud Morrison,
To dance his disappointment off,
Impatient as a Romanoff
At being crossed, no better pleased
Because his friends had often teased
Will as a lover undeclared.
Far better the Professor fared,
He had plain sailing, no one shared
His fancy. All were blinded by
The brighter light that was so nigh.
These nights were golden nights for Lil,
She thought she ne'er could have her fill
Of the bright stream of wit and lore
Which from his honied lips did pour.
He seemed to have lived everywhere,
And to know all things great and fair.
Then he was manly, and he seemed
Like one who, while he did much, dreamed
Of higher spheres for him in store.
Lil oft had been in love before,
But not for men with hopes sublime
Of leaving their impress on time.
A good ghost story very well:
But is it true?” He shook his head.
“I would not vouch it. Dunmail's dead,
If e'er he lived, and no one sights
His host on any other nights.
I can't say more: the legend's old,
And on the Cumbrian mountains told
Close by the cairn. Your course is clear,
If you want more, to take ship there,
And on the trysting night camp out
On Mount Helvellyn. It's about
As cold a place and cold a time
As any in the English clime.”
Kit laughed back that she'd “take his word,
And treat as gospel all she heard,”
And fearing Phil, and sparing Lil
Her dear Professor, challenged Will
To billiards, while the scouted one
Fell back upon Maud Morrison,
To dance his disappointment off,
Impatient as a Romanoff
At being crossed, no better pleased
Because his friends had often teased
Will as a lover undeclared.
Far better the Professor fared,
He had plain sailing, no one shared
111
The brighter light that was so nigh.
These nights were golden nights for Lil,
She thought she ne'er could have her fill
Of the bright stream of wit and lore
Which from his honied lips did pour.
He seemed to have lived everywhere,
And to know all things great and fair.
Then he was manly, and he seemed
Like one who, while he did much, dreamed
Of higher spheres for him in store.
Lil oft had been in love before,
But not for men with hopes sublime
Of leaving their impress on time.
And he, what did he think of her?
A ray of light, a soft zephyr,
A fair wild flower not too bright
Or large for love, an exquisite
And simple air reminding him
Of ballads sung in twilight dim
By Tweedside, the Breton Ysolde,
Or Enid of the legend old.
A ray of light, a soft zephyr,
A fair wild flower not too bright
Or large for love, an exquisite
And simple air reminding him
Of ballads sung in twilight dim
By Tweedside, the Breton Ysolde,
Or Enid of the legend old.
| A Summer Christmas and a Sonnet upon The S.S. "Ballaarat." | |