The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan In Two Volumes. With a Portrait |
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| Land and Sea Songs. |
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 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
383
Land and Sea Songs.
SPRING SONG AFTER SNOW.
The swift is wheeling and gleaming,
The brook is brown in its bed,
Rain from the cloud is streaming,
And the Bow bends overhead:
The charm of the Winter is broken! the last of the spell is said!
The brook is brown in its bed,
Rain from the cloud is streaming,
And the Bow bends overhead:
The charm of the Winter is broken! the last of the spell is said!
Out of the East one morning
Grey Winter came in sight,
But his elves with never a warning
Had been at work all night,
Tinkling at trees and windows, and hanging the world in white.
Grey Winter came in sight,
But his elves with never a warning
Had been at work all night,
Tinkling at trees and windows, and hanging the world in white.
Up, with a foggy breathing,
His nose all red with cold,
Round him the vapours wreathing,
O'er him the dark clouds rolled,
The greybeard came that morning, rheurny and blear'd and old!
His nose all red with cold,
Round him the vapours wreathing,
O'er him the dark clouds rolled,
The greybeard came that morning, rheurny and blear'd and old!
The sharp wind blew behind him,
The swift wind ran before,
The thick snow tried to blind him,
His feet were chilly and sore:
You could hear his wheezing and coughing, a hundred miles and more!
The swift wind ran before,
The thick snow tried to blind him,
His feet were chilly and sore:
You could hear his wheezing and coughing, a hundred miles and more!
Slowly, with feet that linger'd
Up the hills and down,
Chilly footed and finger'd,
He came to our good Town:
The fog was a robe around him, the frost had made him a crown.
Up the hills and down,
Chilly footed and finger'd,
He came to our good Town:
The fog was a robe around him, the frost had made him a crown.
Woeful he seem'd and weary,
As he the steeple spied,
All look'd dull and dreary
Under it far and wide;
But when to the pond he wander'd the boys were making a slide!
As he the steeple spied,
All look'd dull and dreary
Under it far and wide;
But when to the pond he wander'd the boys were making a slide!
Comforters warm and woollen,
Boots all thick and strong,
With not a feature sullen
There they cried in a throng:
And the robin sat on the paling, watching and singing a song!
Boots all thick and strong,
With not a feature sullen
There they cried in a throng:
And the robin sat on the paling, watching and singing a song!
Then seeing a sight so jolly,
Old Winter nodded his head,
And drew out a bunch of holly
With berries all ripe and red,
And he waved the holly for magic, while down the slide they sped!
Old Winter nodded his head,
And drew out a bunch of holly
With berries all ripe and red,
And he waved the holly for magic, while down the slide they sped!
And suddenly with no warning,
All at the pleasant sign,
The bells rang out in the morning,
And the sun began to shine,—
And the host at the inn door chuckled, and all the world looked fine!
All at the pleasant sign,
The bells rang out in the morning,
And the sun began to shine,—
And the host at the inn door chuckled, and all the world looked fine!
. . . But now the earth is green again,
And the blue swift wheels in the air;
Leaves on the hedges are seen again,
And the rain is rich and rare,
And all for another promise the Bow bends bright up there!
And the blue swift wheels in the air;
Leaves on the hedges are seen again,
And the rain is rich and rare,
And all for another promise the Bow bends bright up there!
The Bow bends out of the heaven,
Out of the cloud o'erhead,
The hues in the Bow are seven,
From yellow to purple and red,—
Its foot on the churchyard resteth, bright on the graves of the Dead!
Out of the cloud o'erhead,
The hues in the Bow are seven,
From yellow to purple and red,—
Its foot on the churchyard resteth, bright on the graves of the Dead!
The eel in the pond is quick'ning,
The grayling leaps in the stream,—
What if the clouds are thick'ning,
See how the meadows gleam!
The spell of the Winter is shaken, the world awakes from a dream.
The grayling leaps in the stream,—
What if the clouds are thick'ning,
See how the meadows gleam!
The spell of the Winter is shaken, the world awakes from a dream.
The fir puts out green fingers,
The pear-tree softly blows,
The rose in her dark bower lingers,
But her curtains will soon unclose,—
The lilac will shake her ringlets, over the blush of the rose!
The pear-tree softly blows,
The rose in her dark bower lingers,
But her curtains will soon unclose,—
The lilac will shake her ringlets, over the blush of the rose!
The swift is wheeling and gleaming,
The woods are beginning to ring,
Rain from the clouds is streaming;
There, where the Bow doth cling,
Summer is smiling afar off, over the shoulder of Spring!
The woods are beginning to ring,
Rain from the clouds is streaming;
There, where the Bow doth cling,
Summer is smiling afar off, over the shoulder of Spring!
384
ON THE SHORE.
The swift winds run
Under the sun
And under the silver moon,—
They have taken away my little one—
May they bring him back to me soon!
Under the sun
And under the silver moon,—
They have taken away my little one—
May they bring him back to me soon!
Ye winds, I trow
I care not now
Though the sun hath tann'd him black,
He is still my little one tho' his brow
Be fierce as the wild sea-wrack;
I care not now
Though the sun hath tann'd him black,
He is still my little one tho' his brow
Be fierce as the wild sea-wrack;
Tho' his eyes be cold
As the sea-caves old,
Tho' his beard be dank wi' foam,
Tho' he be wavwarder twenty-fold,
Blow my little one home!
As the sea-caves old,
Tho' his beard be dank wi' foam,
Tho' he be wavwarder twenty-fold,
Blow my little one home!
O loud laugh'd he,
As he went from me
To follow the Storms out there,—
My boy that I rock'd upon my knee
And nurst with a widow's prayer.
As he went from me
To follow the Storms out there,—
My boy that I rock'd upon my knee
And nurst with a widow's prayer.
He would not stay,
And he sail'd away
To toss on the angry Sea,
And when he return'd after many a day
A tall grim man was he!
And he sail'd away
To toss on the angry Sea,
And when he return'd after many a day
A tall grim man was he!
But evermore
When he came on shore,
Despite his wayward will,
The world grew bright and the angry roar
Of the sleepless Seas was still!
When he came on shore,
Despite his wayward will,
The world grew bright and the angry roar
Of the sleepless Seas was still!
Again in my breast
Right glad and blest
The mother's milk was stirred,—
My heart grew glad as the seas at rest
At a loving look or word.
Right glad and blest
The mother's milk was stirred,—
My heart grew glad as the seas at rest
At a loving look or word.
Run, winds, run
Under the sun
And under the silver moon.—
Follow the ship of my little one,
And hasten it homeward soon!
Under the sun
And under the silver moon.—
Follow the ship of my little one,
And hasten it homeward soon!
There is nought for me
On the land or sea,
Or even in Heaven up there,
But the boy I rock'd upon my knee
And nurst with a widow's prayer!
On the land or sea,
Or even in Heaven up there,
But the boy I rock'd upon my knee
And nurst with a widow's prayer!
Ye Winds, that be
As wayward as he,
As restless and fierce and bold,
Find him, and blow him again to me,
Now I am weary and old!
As wayward as he,
As restless and fierce and bold,
Find him, and blow him again to me,
Now I am weary and old!
Be he far or near,
Let him shoreward steer,—
After him, swift winds, fly!
Come back together, that I may hear
Your voices mingle, and die!
Let him shoreward steer,—
After him, swift winds, fly!
Come back together, that I may hear
Your voices mingle, and die!
THE MERMAID.
(WINDLASS SONG.)
I.
I'll tell you, mates, how she came to sea!
(Heave at the windlass! heave ho! cheerily)
She loved me, and I love she,
For she was the gel for a Sailor!
She hailed from Wapping, her name was Sue,
And she was the daughter of a tailor,—
We parted at last, but without ado
She bought both jacket and breeches blue,
And aboard she came for to join our crew
And live the life of a Sailor!
CHORUS.
(Heave at the windlass! heave ho! cheerily)
She loved me, and I love she,
For she was the gel for a Sailor!
She hailed from Wapping, her name was Sue,
And she was the daughter of a tailor,—
We parted at last, but without ado
She bought both jacket and breeches blue,
And aboard she came for to join our crew
And live the life of a Sailor!
Heave at the windlass! yeo heave ho!
Up with the anchor! away we go!
The wind's off the shore, boys,—let it blow,—
Hurrah for the life of a Sailor!
Yeo—ho!
II.
Our Captain he eyed her from stem to starn
(Heave at the windlass! heave ho! cheerily)
But nought of her secret could he discarn,
For his savage jib couldn't quail her.
But when she went for'ard among the res
Her heart began for to fail her,
So she took me aside and the truth confess'd,
With her face a-blushing on this 'ere breast,
And I stared and stared, and says I, ‘I'm blest!
My Sue turn'd into a Sailor!’
CHORUS.
(Heave at the windlass! heave ho! cheerily)
But nought of her secret could he discarn,
For his savage jib couldn't quail her.
385
Her heart began for to fail her,
So she took me aside and the truth confess'd,
With her face a-blushing on this 'ere breast,
And I stared and stared, and says I, ‘I'm blest!
My Sue turn'd into a Sailor!’
Heave at the windlass! yeo heave ho!
Up with the anchor! away we go!
The wind's off the shore, boys,—let it blow,—
Hurrah for the life of a Sailor!
Yeo—ho!
III.
Now we hadn't got far away from land
(Heave at the windlass, heave ho! cheerily)
When a Mermaid rose with a glass in her hand,
And our ship hove to for to hail her.
Says she, ‘Each wessel that looks on me,
Man-o'-war, merchantman, or whaler,
Must sink right down to the bottom of the sea,
Where the dog-fish flies and the sea-snakes flee,
Unless a Wirgin on board there be
To plead for the life of a Sailor!’
CHORUS.
(Heave at the windlass, heave ho! cheerily)
When a Mermaid rose with a glass in her hand,
And our ship hove to for to hail her.
Says she, ‘Each wessel that looks on me,
Man-o'-war, merchantman, or whaler,
Must sink right down to the bottom of the sea,
Where the dog-fish flies and the sea-snakes flee,
Unless a Wirgin on board there be
To plead for the life of a Sailor!’
Heave at the windlass! yeo heave ho!
Up with the anchor! away we go!
The wind's off the shore, boys,—let it blow,—
Hurrah for the life of a Sailor!
Yeo—ho!
IV.
Then up jumped Sue with the breeches on!
(Heave at the windlass, heave ho! cheerily)
‘You nasty hussy!’ says she, ‘begone!’
And the Mermaid's cheeks grew paler!
‘There's a gel aboard and her name is Sue!
A Wirgin, the daughter of a tailor,
Who's more than a match for the likes of you!’
At this the Mermaid looked werry blue,
And then, with a splash of her tail, with-drew,
While Sue she embraced her Sailor!
CHORUS.
(Heave at the windlass, heave ho! cheerily)
‘You nasty hussy!’ says she, ‘begone!’
And the Mermaid's cheeks grew paler!
‘There's a gel aboard and her name is Sue!
A Wirgin, the daughter of a tailor,
Who's more than a match for the likes of you!’
At this the Mermaid looked werry blue,
And then, with a splash of her tail, with-drew,
While Sue she embraced her Sailor!
Heave at the windlass! yeo heave ho!
Up with the anchor! away we go!
The wind's off the shore, boys,—let it blow,—
Hurrah for the life of a Sailor!
Yeo—ho!
THE TRAMP'S DITTY.
I.
Out there in the greenwood beneath a green willow,Or under a haystack, my lodging shall be, O!
The sky for a curtain, the earth for a pillow,
The life of a Tramp is the life that suits me, O!
Sing derry down derry,
It's glad and it's merry! . . .
Thro' the haze of the heat
Cattle low, lambkins bleat,
While (tweet a tweet tweet!)
The birds whistle sweet,
And I lie on my back, right contented and free, O!
Sing derry down derry,
The life is so merry!
The life of a Tramp,
Be it dry, be it damp,
Is a life for a King, and the right life for me, O!
II.
Would I eat? there's a spread in the turnipfield ready!Would I drink? there's the cow standing under a tree, O!
Would I change with a lord? I'm not quite such a neddy!
No, wealth and fine raiment are fiddlede-dee, O!
Sing derry down derry,
This life is most merry!
When it rains, let it rain!
In the wood or the lane,
Snugly sheltered I lie
Till the shower passes by,—
With patter of pearls on the daisy-deckt lea, O!
Then, derry down derry,
The sun shines out merry,—
And the heart of the Tramp,
Be he rogue, be he scamp,
Leaps and laughs in the light, like a wave of the Sea, O!
386
III.
And sometimes a-milking comes sun-freckled Molly,And after palaver sits down on my knee, O!
And I envy no lordling his finely drest dolly,
When kisses like those can be mine, with no fee, O!
Thro' the haze of the heat
Cattle low, lambkins bleat,
And the birds sing so sweet
While we kiss (tweet a tweet!),
And the King and the Queen of the Meadows are we, O!
Sing derry down derry,
The life is so merry,—
The life of a Tramp
Beats the Court and the Camp,
Be it day, be it night, 'tis the life that suits me, O!
THE CRY FROM THE MINE.
Out of the sinister caverns of Night,
Out of the depths where the Hell-fires are glowing,
Cometh a cry, floating up to the Light,
Here, where glad mortals are reaping and sowing:
‘Night ever over us, blackness to cover us,
Deeper we crawl than the graves of the Dead!
Sisters and brothers, whose fires burn so cheerily,
Fed by the coal that we work for so wearily,
Give us, in God's name, our wages of Bread!
Out of the depths where the Hell-fires are glowing,
Cometh a cry, floating up to the Light,
Here, where glad mortals are reaping and sowing:
‘Night ever over us, blackness to cover us,
Deeper we crawl than the graves of the Dead!
Sisters and brothers, whose fires burn so cheerily,
Fed by the coal that we work for so wearily,
Give us, in God's name, our wages of Bread!
‘Hell burning under us, gnome-like we dwell,
Store for your hearths ever scraping and scooping,
Stifling and thunderous vapours of Hell
Blacken our mouths, where we're stooping and drooping;
Terrors environ us, lest the fierce fire on us
Leap, as it leapt on our kin who are sped!
Children and wives wait our wages and cry for them;
Eager to toil for them, ready to die for them,
Darkly we grope for our handful of Bread!
Store for your hearths ever scraping and scooping,
Stifling and thunderous vapours of Hell
Blacken our mouths, where we're stooping and drooping;
Terrors environ us, lest the fierce fire on us
Leap, as it leapt on our kin who are sped!
Children and wives wait our wages and cry for them;
Eager to toil for them, ready to die for them,
Darkly we grope for our handful of Bread!
‘Sooner or later Death cometh this way,—
Slain by his breathing our kindred are lying here!
Old ere our time, worn and weary and grey,
Bear we the burthen that's dreary as dying, here!
Pain is our portion here, gruesome our fortune here,
Still we're content when our dear ones are fed—
Sisters and brothers, while blindly and wearily
Ever we toil that your fires may burn cheerily,
Give us, in God's name, our guerdon of Bread!’
Slain by his breathing our kindred are lying here!
Old ere our time, worn and weary and grey,
Bear we the burthen that's dreary as dying, here!
Pain is our portion here, gruesome our fortune here,
Still we're content when our dear ones are fed—
Sisters and brothers, while blindly and wearily
Ever we toil that your fires may burn cheerily,
Give us, in God's name, our guerdon of Bread!’
Out of the sinister caverns of Night,
Out of the depths where these weary ones wander,
Cometh the cry, floating up to the Light.
Up to the sunshine that never shines yonder:
‘Night ever over us, blackness to cover us,
Toil we for ever, less living than dead!—
Sisters and brothers, whose fires burn so cheerily,
Fed by the coal that we dig for so drearily.
See that we lack not our wages of Bread!’
Out of the depths where these weary ones wander,
Cometh the cry, floating up to the Light.
Up to the sunshine that never shines yonder:
‘Night ever over us, blackness to cover us,
Toil we for ever, less living than dead!—
Sisters and brothers, whose fires burn so cheerily,
Fed by the coal that we dig for so drearily.
See that we lack not our wages of Bread!’
THE LEAD-MELTING.
'Twas clear, cold, starry, silver night,
And the Old Year was a-dying;
Three pretty girls with melted lead
Sat gaily fortune-trying.
They dropt the lead in water clear,
With blushing palpitations
And, as it hissed, with fearful heart;
They sought its revelations.
And the Old Year was a-dying;
Three pretty girls with melted lead
Sat gaily fortune-trying.
They dropt the lead in water clear,
With blushing palpitations
And, as it hissed, with fearful heart;
They sought its revelations.
In the deep night, while all around
The snow is whitely falling,
Each pretty girl looks down to find
Her future husband's calling.
The eldest sees a Castle bright,
Girt round by shrubland shady;
And, blushing bright, she feels in thought
A lady rich already.
The snow is whitely falling,
Each pretty girl looks down to find
Her future husband's calling.
The eldest sees a Castle bright,
Girt round by shrubland shady;
And, blushing bright, she feels in thought
A lady rich already.
387
The second sees a silver Ship,
And bright and glad her face is;
Oh, she will have a skipper bold,
Grown rich in foreign places!
The younger sees a glittering Crown,
And starts in consternation;
For Molly is too meek to dream
Of reaching regal station!
And bright and glad her face is;
Oh, she will have a skipper bold,
Grown rich in foreign places!
The younger sees a glittering Crown,
And starts in consternation;
For Molly is too meek to dream
Of reaching regal station!
And time went by: one maiden got
Her landsman, one her sailor—
The Lackey of a country count,
The Skipper of a whaler!
And Molly has her Crown, although
She unto few can show it—
Her crown is true-love fancy-wrought,
Her husband, a poor Poet!
Her landsman, one her sailor—
The Lackey of a country count,
The Skipper of a whaler!
And Molly has her Crown, although
She unto few can show it—
Her crown is true-love fancy-wrought,
Her husband, a poor Poet!
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |