 | Birds, Bees and Blossoms |  |
133
THE LONDON MILKMAID.
Milkmaid with the Rose of Wales
Blooming in thy smiling face,
Telling that breezy peaks and vales
Lay round thy healthy native place,
Thy memory, too, is backward borne
To where the broom her gold is showing,
And spotted cowslips this bright morn
Are “All-a-blowing, all-a-growing:”
Blooming in thy smiling face,
Telling that breezy peaks and vales
Lay round thy healthy native place,
Thy memory, too, is backward borne
To where the broom her gold is showing,
And spotted cowslips this bright morn
Are “All-a-blowing, all-a-growing:”
To pastoral sounds that filled the valley,
Till broken by thy artless song.
How different from the city alley,
And those thou dwellest now among!
Thy milk now brought by railway train,
No cows with well-filled udders lowing;
Thy milk-can drying near the drain,
Not placed near flowers “All-a-blowing.”
Till broken by thy artless song.
134
And those thou dwellest now among!
Thy milk now brought by railway train,
No cows with well-filled udders lowing;
Thy milk-can drying near the drain,
Not placed near flowers “All-a-blowing.”
That sound has carried thee away
To where, hemmed in with bracken brown,
Thou didst find out one sunny day
A little hidden flowery town
Of hare-bells and bright crimson heather:
Ripe blackberries at hand were growing,
Corn rustled in that harvest weather,
“All-a-blowing, all-a-growing.”
To where, hemmed in with bracken brown,
Thou didst find out one sunny day
A little hidden flowery town
Of hare-bells and bright crimson heather:
Ripe blackberries at hand were growing,
Corn rustled in that harvest weather,
“All-a-blowing, all-a-growing.”
It takes thee back to field and fold,
To children round the mountain straying,
To walks across the windy wold,
Companions with whom thou went'st Maying,
Now hidden 'mid the leaves so long,
Through which some half-spied face was showing,
Anon all bursting into song,
Of “All-a-blowing, all-a-growing;”
To children round the mountain straying,
To walks across the windy wold,
Companions with whom thou went'st Maying,
Now hidden 'mid the leaves so long,
Through which some half-spied face was showing,
Anon all bursting into song,
Of “All-a-blowing, all-a-growing;”
Of milk-pail poised upon thy head,
With one hand resting on thy side,
Crossing the bridge with cautious tread;
Of banks with rainbow colours dyed;
Thy image thrown upon the stream,
With all thy long hair backward blowing;
Where mirrored flowers seemed to dream,
Reflected downward, “All-a-growing.”
With one hand resting on thy side,
Crossing the bridge with cautious tread;
Of banks with rainbow colours dyed;
Thy image thrown upon the stream,
With all thy long hair backward blowing;
Where mirrored flowers seemed to dream,
Reflected downward, “All-a-growing.”
| Birds, Bees and Blossoms | |