Berries & Blossoms :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lily went up on the hill-top wide,
With her net to catch the wind.
“Hollo! hollo!” the little winds cried,
“Here'll be some sport to our mind!”
But with hurly-burly,
Solemn and surly,
And mumbling and rumbling,
And growling and grumbling,

The great North Wind leap'd up from his lair,
And caught the little child by the hair!

Lily was five years old,
A brisk, fleet-footed creature,
With a pair of blue eyes, blithe and bold,
And a smile in each small feature;
A frolicsome face, all fresh and sheen,
Like a little red rose its leaves between,
On an April morning early,
Was Lily's, that day, on the hill-top green,
'Mid its locks, so glossy and curly.

For Lily had long brown hair,
That danced and floated and flutter'd;
And the great North Wind, like an angry bear,
The while he mumbled and mutter'd,
Tugg'd hard and fast at those pretty curls,
With passionate pulls and wicked whirls,
And as for the fairy bonnet
Of satin and silk, as white as milk,
With a blackcock's feather upon it,

It was blown and bent and whisk'd from her head,
With a strength she could not master,
And “Hollo! hollo!” the little winds said,
As they puff'd it farther and faster.

Then Lily laugh'd outright,
She never ceased her laughter,
As she flew o'er the turf like a beam of light,
And the Wind came flying after.
It pluck'd at her skirt, it twitch'd her sash,
It pounced on her cloak with a sudden dash,
But all the louder laugh'd Lily,
And when weary and out of breath she grew,
She sat on the ground and laugh'd anew,
On a bed, all yellow and pied and blue,
Of orchis and daffodilly.

Now the North Wind, though a terrible bear,
Is not so black as he's painted;
And that sweet little laugh so tickled his ear,
That his great rough heart relented.

“And really,” said he, “if the truth be told,
She's a charming child, this Lily!
I thought to sweep her up to the sky,
Or drive her down the gully hard by,
But to hurt a creature so merry and fair,
With such blithe blue eyes, and such curly hair,
Were surely cruel and silly!”

Then the North Wind furl'd his wings o'erhead,
And left off racing and running;
And “Hollo! hollo!” the little ones said,
“So here's an end of our funning!”
For they saw their sire drop down from his whirls,
And pat little Lily, and sleek her curls,
And kiss each dear little dimple,
And fan her fair, fresh cheek, till it grew
Like an autumn apple, ruddy of hue,
And smooth her tippet and wimple,
While Lily look'd sly before and behind,
And open'd her net to catch the wind.

But “Ho! little breezes,” the North Wind cried,
“Come hither, come hither, come hither!
And you and I and Lily beside
Will all go roaming together.
You shall shake down the cones from the tree,
And the ripe wood-apples so rosy,
And snap off the woodbine, waving free,
For Lily to twine a posy;
While I soar up to the mountain top,
Or sweep o'er the purple heather,
A trophy to bring from the falcon's wing,
Or the kingfisher's bluest feather.
And so high we'll go, and so low we'll go,
And so far and wide we'll wander,
That Lily shall come with a full net home
To her mother's cot down yonder.
And ho! little breezes, take care, take care,
Lest harm or evil befal her;
Lest buzzard or bat her senses scare,
Or toad or viper appal her.

And be sure you make her a pathway clear
In the wood, wherever she passes,
And puff the nettle aside, and bear
Low down the bearded grasses,
For Lily to-day is your playmate dear,
And the very blithest of lasses.”

“Hollo! hollo!” each little wind said,
“Hollo! Lily, my lady!
Hollo! hollo! and follow, follow,
Through dingles sunny and shady.
Hollo! hollo! we'll have such fun,
We'll pipe, we'll whistle, we'll gambol;
And never your feet a thorn shall meet,
Of prickly briar and bramble.
Hollo! hollo! come, follow, follow,
And let us set out on our ramble!”

So they flutter'd their wings and piping still
They push'd little Lily down the hill,
And Lily laugh'd and scamper'd,

While some little folks that I know well,
(Though you must not ask me their names to tell,)
Would only have whined and whimper'd.
And up the hill, and down the hill,
And over moorland and meadow,
The child and her madcap gossips gay
Roam'd to and fro, through the live-long day,
'Mid shifting sun and shadow.
But Lily's doings, and what befel,
And their mirth and mischief in field and fell,
And the “hide and seek” they play'd so well
In the hill-caves hollow and hoary,
You must fancy; for I've no skill to tell
That part of the wondrous story.
But this I know, that never had child
Friends so frisky and merry and wild.

In her ivy porch, by snatches,
Lily's mother works and watches,
Hears afar a merry humming,
Looks and sees her Lily coming,

Marks her toddling slowly, slowly,
Down the green hill-side,
With her little net fill'd wholly,
And her lap beside.
Berries, apples, buds, and posies,
Glossy feathers, dewy roses,
All her wealth the child discloses;
And the mother sees,
While she gazes, smiles and praises,
These and more than these—
Sees the little eyes beam brightly,
And the forehead lifted lightly,
And a look of pleasure spreading
Over cheek and brow, and shedding
Beauty better than all other.
Happy Lily! happy mother!

“Hollo! hollo!” sing the breezes,
“Now we'll wager that it pleases
Lily's mother oft to let her

Climb the hill where we shall find her,
With her little net behind her,
Full of mischief, fun, and gambol
Ready for another ramble—
And pray what could suit us better?”