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Songs and ballads

By Charles Swain
Swain, Charles (1801-1874)
 
[dedication]

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[Thou that flingest back the portal]
 
TO THE LARK.
 
TRIPPING DOWN THE FIELD-PATH.
 
HOME AND FRIENDS.
 
THE LAST MEETING.
 
SMILE AND NEVER HEED ME.
 
THE THREE CALLERS.
 
LOVE'S TRIALS.
 
BE KIND TO EACH OTHER.
 
I WAITED TILL THE TWILIGHT.
 
THE COTTAGE DOOR.
 
LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
 
THE OLD COTTAGE CLOCK.
 
ALADDIN'S LAMP.
 
IMAGINARY EVILS.
 
MORNING.
 
KEEP THE HEART LIGHT AS YOU CAN.
 
YESTERDAY AND TO-MORROW.
 
GIVE ME THE PEOPLE.
 
WHERE DWELLS THE FAIRY QUEEN?
 
PASSING THY DOOR.
 
SONG AND SUMMER.
 
HO! BREAKERS ON THE WEATHER BOW.
 
WHEN THE HEART IS YOUNG.
 
PROCRASTINATION.
 
THE HUSBAND'S SONG.
 
THE ORPHAN BOY.
 
OH! WHAT A WORLD IT MIGHT BE!
 
DO A GOOD TURN WHEN YOU CAN.
 
'T WAS ON A SUNDAY MORNING.
 
TO THE SEA-NYMPH.
 
THE SEA-NYMPH'S REPLY.
 
THERE'S AN HOUR.
 
DISTRESS.
 
THE UNATTAINABLE.
 
IN MY FAIRY GARDEN.
 
THE BUCCANEER'S SONG.
 
LOVE'S HISTORY.
 
A FOOT UPON THE STEP.
 
THE HUNTING MORN.
 
THE MEADOW GATE.
 
A WORD OF THINE.
 
THE OLD EVENINGS.
 
BETTER THAN BEAUTY.
 
NEAR THEE.
 
A SKETCH.
 
FORGIVE AND FORGET.
 
A PALE, PALE CHEEK.
 
HATH THE WORLD.
 
THE LILIES OF THE FIELD.
 
TIME TO ME.
 
THE NIGHT HATH GONE.
 
MAIDEN WORTH.
 
UNKINDNESS.
 
WHEN LIFE HATH SORROW FOUND.
 
LIGHT OF HEART.
 
BEAUTY IS DEAD.
 
NEVER RAIL AT THE WORLD.
 
THE BETROTHED.
 
MORTALITY.
 
THE WAYS OF HEAVEN.
 
'TWAS JUST BEFORE THE HAY WAS MOWN.
 
THE VOICE OF THE MORNING.
 
A MOMENT.
 
MIRTH.
 
GIVE ME A FRESHENING BREEZE.
 
A VIOLET.
 
PAST THE HOUR.
 
THE COTTAGE WINDOW.
 
SPEAK NO ILL.
 
THE CHAMOIS HUNTERS.
 
OPEN HEARTED.
 
THE SAILOR.
 
THERE'S A CHARM.
 
DARKNESS UPON THE SEA.
 
VILLAGE COURTSHIP.
 
THE SHIPS OF ENGLAND.
 
MARY.
 
THE COQUETTE.
 
THE SNOW.
 
LOVE GIFTS.
 
I WILL NOT GIVE MY HEART AWAY.
 
THE BEAUTIFUL DAY.

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7

TO THE LARK.

Wherefore is thy song so gay?
Wherefore is thy flight so free?
Singing—soaring—day by day;
Thou'rt a bird of low degree!
Tirral-la!
Scarcely sheltered from the mould,
We thy humble nest can see;
Wherefore is thy song so bold?
Little bird of low degree.
Tirral-la! Tirral-la!
Humbly though my dwelling lie,
Next-door neighbour to the earth;
Rank, though lifted ne'er so high,
Cannot soar like humble worth:
Tirral-la!
8

Shall I silently repine,
When these birds of loftier airs
Say no parent race of mine
Built a nest as high as theirs?
Tirral-la! Tirral-la!
Give me but a summer morn,
Sweet with dew and golden light,
And the richest plumage born
Well may envy me my flight!
Tirral-la!
Through the azure halls of day,
Where the path of freedom lies,
Tirral-la! is still my lay—
Onward, upward to the skies!
Tirral-la! Tirral-la!
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