 | A Flight of Fancies |  |
153
LOVE IN ENGLAND
Love, who sprang from bed in haste,
Pulled the blind up, quickly dressed,
Tied an apron round her waist,
Hummed the music in her breast.
“Here's my dawn and here's my day,
Here's my English work,” she said;
“Here's the chance to give away
Loaves of love, the perfect bread.”
Pulled the blind up, quickly dressed,
Tied an apron round her waist,
Hummed the music in her breast.
“Here's my dawn and here's my day,
Here's my English work,” she said;
“Here's the chance to give away
Loaves of love, the perfect bread.”
“Now that England's up again,
Not a minute must be lost;
Not a second, weak and vain,
Used for sums of care and cost.
Mine the splendid recipe
Never known to fail!” she said;
“All that wish can have from me
Loaves of love, the perfect bread!”
Not a minute must be lost;
Not a second, weak and vain,
Used for sums of care and cost.
Mine the splendid recipe
Never known to fail!” she said;
“All that wish can have from me
Loaves of love, the perfect bread!”
“Trust my oven! Come in throngs
Over hill and stream and moor,
Gay with laughter, glad with songs,
Multitudinous at my door!
Bringing baskets you have kept
Idle hitherto,” she said,
“Bless my baking, and accept
Loaves of love, the perfect bread!”
Over hill and stream and moor,
Gay with laughter, glad with songs,
Multitudinous at my door!
154
Idle hitherto,” she said,
“Bless my baking, and accept
Loaves of love, the perfect bread!”
“You that labour at the bench,
You that toil within the shop,
You that dig the celery trench,
You that sow the cornland crop,
Fill your baskets! If you lack
Twice as much again,” she said,
“Run to me, and carry back
Loaves of love, the perfect bread!”
You that toil within the shop,
You that dig the celery trench,
You that sow the cornland crop,
Fill your baskets! If you lack
Twice as much again,” she said,
“Run to me, and carry back
Loaves of love, the perfect bread!”
| A Flight of Fancies | |