Flower Pieces and other poems By William Allingham: With two designs by Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
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THISTLEDOWN.
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 | Flower Pieces and other poems |  |
137
THISTLEDOWN.
(An English Rural Custom.)
I was told of this as a still-existing custom in some parts of England. A friend objected that thistledown could not be thus used; but Mr. Richard Jefferies in his ‘Wild Life in a Southern County,’ p. 206, says, ‘Thistledown is sometimes gathered to fill pillow-cases, and a pillow so filled is exquisitely soft.’
Long ago,—a little girl,
Smooth of cheek and dark of curl,
Like my daughter's nearly,—
I gather'd for my bridal bed
Many a hoary thistle-head
Before the flying tufts were shed,
And saved them up so dearly.
Smooth of cheek and dark of curl,
Like my daughter's nearly,—
I gather'd for my bridal bed
Many a hoary thistle-head
Before the flying tufts were shed,
And saved them up so dearly.
O the happy days and dreams!
Endless Present,—lit with gleams
Of a wondrous Future!
Day, and week, and month, and year,
Glide,—and what know you, my dear?
And what know I? O little sphere
Of every mortal creature!
Endless Present,—lit with gleams
Of a wondrous Future!
Day, and week, and month, and year,
Glide,—and what know you, my dear?
And what know I? O little sphere
Of every mortal creature!
Life has pleasure, life has pain,
Passing, not to come again,
Blackest hours and brightest.
Time takes all things, all must go;
Byegones vanish—is it so?
Gone and lost for ever?—No!
Not the least and lightest.
Passing, not to come again,
Blackest hours and brightest.
Time takes all things, all must go;
Byegones vanish—is it so?
Gone and lost for ever?—No!
Not the least and lightest.
138
In Age, we laugh at dreams of Youth.
Are Age's dreams more like the truth?
And what is life but feeling?
The world is something, none can doubt,
But no one finds its secret out;
To childhood, and to souls devout,
Comes the best revealing.
Are Age's dreams more like the truth?
And what is life but feeling?
The world is something, none can doubt,
But no one finds its secret out;
To childhood, and to souls devout,
Comes the best revealing.
Gay at heart are you, my child,
Gathering downy thistles wild;
Cares nor fears oppress thee;
Gathering up, for joy, for moan,
When all these autumns, too, are flown,
The bed that you must lie upon.
—God protect and bless thee!
Gathering downy thistles wild;
Cares nor fears oppress thee;
Gathering up, for joy, for moan,
When all these autumns, too, are flown,
The bed that you must lie upon.
—God protect and bless thee!
| Flower Pieces and other poems | |