 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
119
SONG FOR ALL SOULS.
Ah, many a night I've lain awake,
Of the nights when I was young—
Long, long, and long ago—
To listen and listen o'er again
To the lilting lay with the low refrain,
Half sad, half sweet, “Heigh-ho!”
Float silvery over the silver lake,
With its clear refrain, “Heigh-ho!”
Till far and near the echoes rung,
Some sad, some sweet, “Heigh-ho!”
“Blown away like daisy leaves;
Whirled away like snow;
All gone, dead and gone,
Weary heart, heigh-ho!”
Of the nights when I was young—
Long, long, and long ago—
To listen and listen o'er again
To the lilting lay with the low refrain,
Half sad, half sweet, “Heigh-ho!”
Float silvery over the silver lake,
With its clear refrain, “Heigh-ho!”
Till far and near the echoes rung,
Some sad, some sweet, “Heigh-ho!”
“Blown away like daisy leaves;
Whirled away like snow;
All gone, dead and gone,
Weary heart, heigh-ho!”
Ah, many a night I 've lain awake
In the garret rude and low,
To listen to the lilting lay,
Swelling and dying far away,
Save only just the strange refrain,
Half of pleasure and half of pain,
Blown silvery over the silver lake—
Blown soft as moonshine over the streams,
And across my pillow and into my dreams:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, dead and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dry leaves in the winter winds,
Or snowflakes in the sea.”
In the garret rude and low,
To listen to the lilting lay,
Swelling and dying far away,
Save only just the strange refrain,
Half of pleasure and half of pain,
Blown silvery over the silver lake—
Blown soft as moonshine over the streams,
And across my pillow and into my dreams:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, dead and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dry leaves in the winter winds,
Or snowflakes in the sea.”
120
Ah, many a night I 've lain awake,
And listened with all my heart,
To hear from over the silver lake
The silvery echo start.
Ay, start and tremble, strain o'er strain,
To a wild and wailing call,
Then softly sink to the sad refrain
With a dulcet, dying fall:
“All gone, dead and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like flowers of grass along the grass,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And listened with all my heart,
To hear from over the silver lake
The silvery echo start.
Ay, start and tremble, strain o'er strain,
To a wild and wailing call,
Then softly sink to the sad refrain
With a dulcet, dying fall:
“All gone, dead and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like flowers of grass along the grass,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And I marvelled as I lay awake,
And the marvel would not go,
Who thus across the silver lake
Should nightly sing and row;
As if that he the lake had crossed
Till youth and hope and love were lost,
To come no more, no more;
And he could not choose but sing so low
The lilting lay with the sad refrain,
And to sing it o'er and o'er again:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, lost and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dead leaves in the winter wind,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And the marvel would not go,
Who thus across the silver lake
Should nightly sing and row;
As if that he the lake had crossed
Till youth and hope and love were lost,
To come no more, no more;
And he could not choose but sing so low
The lilting lay with the sad refrain,
And to sing it o'er and o'er again:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, lost and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dead leaves in the winter wind,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And I did not know, as I lay awake
And listened to that song,
Blown silvery over the silver lake,
That I, and that ere long,
That very rower's mood should take,
And sing the same sad song—
That song so low, so low—
And sing it o'er and o'er again,
From the wild and wailing call,
To the dulcet, dying fall:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, lost and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dead leaves in the winter wind,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And listened to that song,
Blown silvery over the silver lake,
That I, and that ere long,
121
And sing the same sad song—
That song so low, so low—
And sing it o'er and o'er again,
From the wild and wailing call,
To the dulcet, dying fall:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, lost and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dead leaves in the winter wind,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |