 | Child-world (1869) |  |
1
A BALLAD.
O, were you at war in the red Eastern land?
What did you hear, and what did you see?
Saw you my son, with his sword in his hand?
Sent he, by you, any dear word to me?
What did you hear, and what did you see?
Saw you my son, with his sword in his hand?
Sent he, by you, any dear word to me?
2
“I come from red war, in that dire Eastern land:
I saw three deeds which one might die to see;
But I know not your son, with his sword in his hand;
If you would hear of him, paint him to me.”
I saw three deeds which one might die to see;
But I know not your son, with his sword in his hand;
If you would hear of him, paint him to me.”
O, he is as gentle as south winds in May!
“'Tis not a gentle place where I have been.”
O, he has a smile like the outbreak of day!
“Where men are dying fast, smiles are not seen.”
“'Tis not a gentle place where I have been.”
O, he has a smile like the outbreak of day!
“Where men are dying fast, smiles are not seen.”
3
Tell me the mightiest deeds that were done.
Deeds of chief honour, you said, you saw three;
You said you saw three—I am sure he did one.
My heart shall discern him, and cry, “This is he!”
Deeds of chief honour, you said, you saw three;
You said you saw three—I am sure he did one.
My heart shall discern him, and cry, “This is he!”
“I saw a man scaling a tower of despair,
And he went up alone, and the hosts shouted loud.”
That was my son! Had he streams of fair hair?
“Nay; it was black as the blackest night-cloud.”
And he went up alone, and the hosts shouted loud.”
That was my son! Had he streams of fair hair?
“Nay; it was black as the blackest night-cloud.”
4
Did he live? “No, he died: but the fortress was won.
And they said it was grand for a man to die so.”
Alas, for his mother! He was not my son.
Was there no fair-haired soldier who humbled the foe?
And they said it was grand for a man to die so.”
Alas, for his mother! He was not my son.
Was there no fair-haired soldier who humbled the foe?
“I saw a man charging in front of his rank,
Thirty yards on, in a hurry to die;
Straight as an arrow hurled into the flank
Of a huge desert-beast, ere the hunter draws nigh.”
Thirty yards on, in a hurry to die;
Straight as an arrow hurled into the flank
Of a huge desert-beast, ere the hunter draws nigh.”
5
Did he live? “No, he died: but the battle was won,
And the conquest-cry carried his name through the air.
Be comforted, mother; he was not thy son:
Worn was his forehead, and grey was his hair.”
And the conquest-cry carried his name through the air.
Be comforted, mother; he was not thy son:
Worn was his forehead, and grey was his hair.”
O, the brow of my son is as smooth as a rose;
I kissed it last night in my dream. I have heard
Two legends of fame from the land of our foes;
But you said there were three: you must tell me the third.
I kissed it last night in my dream. I have heard
Two legends of fame from the land of our foes;
But you said there were three: you must tell me the third.
6
“I saw a man flash from the trenches, and fly
In a battery's face; but it was not to slay:
A poor little drummer had dropped down to die,
With his ankle shot through, in the place where he lay.
In a battery's face; but it was not to slay:
A poor little drummer had dropped down to die,
With his ankle shot through, in the place where he lay.
“He carried the boy like a babe through the rain,
The death-pouring torrent, of grape-shot and shell;
And he walked at a foot's pace because of the pain,
Laid his burden down gently, smiled once, and then fell.”
The death-pouring torrent, of grape-shot and shell;
And he walked at a foot's pace because of the pain,
Laid his burden down gently, smiled once, and then fell.”
7
Did he live? “No, he died: but he rescued the boy.
Such a death is more noble than life (so they said).
He had streams of fair hair, and a face full of joy.
And his name”—Speak it not!
'T is my son! He is dead!
Such a death is more noble than life (so they said).
He had streams of fair hair, and a face full of joy.
And his name”—Speak it not!
'T is my son! He is dead!
O, dig him a grave by the red rowan tree,
Where the spring moss grows softer than fringes of foam;
And lay his bed smoothly, and leave room for me,
For I shall be ready before he comes home.
Where the spring moss grows softer than fringes of foam;
And lay his bed smoothly, and leave room for me,
For I shall be ready before he comes home.
8
And carve on his tombstone a name and a wreath,
And a tale to touch hearts through the slow-spreading years—
How he died his noble and beautiful death,
And his mother, who longed for him, died of her tears.
And a tale to touch hearts through the slow-spreading years—
How he died his noble and beautiful death,
And his mother, who longed for him, died of her tears.
But what is this face shining in at the door,
With its old smile of peace, and its flood of fair hair?
Are you come, blessed ghost, from the far heavenly shore?
Do not go back alone!—let me follow you there!
With its old smile of peace, and its flood of fair hair?
Are you come, blessed ghost, from the far heavenly shore?
Do not go back alone!—let me follow you there!
9
“O, clasp me, dear mother. I come to remain;
I come to your heart,—God has answered your prayer.
Your son is alive from the hosts of the slain,
And the Cross of our Queen on his breast glitters fair!”
I come to your heart,—God has answered your prayer.
Your son is alive from the hosts of the slain,
And the Cross of our Queen on his breast glitters fair!”
27
THE LITTLE SCHOONER.
They built a little ship,
By the rough sea-side;
They laid her keel in hope,
And they launched it in pride.
Five-and-twenty working men,
All day and half night,
Were hammering and clamouring
To make her all right.
By the rough sea-side;
They laid her keel in hope,
And they launched it in pride.
Five-and-twenty working men,
All day and half night,
Were hammering and clamouring
To make her all right.
28
Lightly was she rigged,
And strongly was she sparred;
She had bowlines and buntlines,
Topping-lift and yard;
They swung round her boom,
When the wind blew piff-paff;
For she was a little schooner,
And she sailed with a gaff.
And strongly was she sparred;
She had bowlines and buntlines,
Topping-lift and yard;
They swung round her boom,
When the wind blew piff-paff;
For she was a little schooner,
And she sailed with a gaff.
The men who were making her
Talk'd of her at home—
“A smarter little creature
Shall never breast the foam;
She is not built for battle
Nor for any dark deed,
But for safety and money,
And comfort and speed.”
Talk'd of her at home—
“A smarter little creature
Shall never breast the foam;
She is not built for battle
Nor for any dark deed,
But for safety and money,
And comfort and speed.”
29
She made two trips
In the smooth summer days;
Back she came merrily,
All sang her praise.
Once she brought figs
From a land of good heat;
Once she brought Memel wood,
Strong, hard, and sweet.
In the smooth summer days;
Back she came merrily,
All sang her praise.
Once she brought figs
From a land of good heat;
Once she brought Memel wood,
Strong, hard, and sweet.
She made three trips
When winter gales were strong;
Back she came gallantly,
Not a spar wrong;
She could scud before the wind
With just a sail set,
Or beat up and go about
With not a foot wet.
When winter gales were strong;
Back she came gallantly,
Not a spar wrong;
She could scud before the wind
With just a sail set,
Or beat up and go about
With not a foot wet.
30
It was in September
That she went out anew,
As fresh as a little daisy
Brimful of morning dew,
Brush'd, painted, holystoned,
Tarred, trimmed, and laced,
Like a beauty in a ball-dress
With a sash round her waist.
That she went out anew,
As fresh as a little daisy
Brimful of morning dew,
Brush'd, painted, holystoned,
Tarred, trimmed, and laced,
Like a beauty in a ball-dress
With a sash round her waist.
She went out of harbour
With a light breeze and fair,
And every shred of canvas spread
Upon the soft blue air;
But when she pass'd the Needles
It was blowing half a gale,
And she took in a double reef,
And haul'd down half her sail.
With a light breeze and fair,
And every shred of canvas spread
Upon the soft blue air;
But when she pass'd the Needles
It was blowing half a gale,
And she took in a double reef,
And haul'd down half her sail.
31
Just as the sun was sinking,
A cloud sprang from the east,
Like an angry whiff of darkness
Before the daylight ceased;
It went rushing up the sky,
And a black wind rush'd below,
And struck the little schooner
As a man strikes his foe.
A cloud sprang from the east,
Like an angry whiff of darkness
Before the daylight ceased;
It went rushing up the sky,
And a black wind rush'd below,
And struck the little schooner
As a man strikes his foe.
She fought like a hero—
Alas! how could she fight,
In the clutch of the hurling demons
Who roar in the seas by night?
White stars, wild stars,
With driving clouds before,
You saw her driven like a cloud
Upon a cruel lee-shore!
Alas! how could she fight,
In the clutch of the hurling demons
Who roar in the seas by night?
White stars, wild stars,
With driving clouds before,
You saw her driven like a cloud
Upon a cruel lee-shore!
32
There were ten souls on board of her
The crew, I ween, were eight,
And the ninth was a woman,
And she was the skipper's mate;
The ninth was a woman,
With a prayer upon her lip;
And the tenth was a little cabin-boy,
And this was his first trip.
The crew, I ween, were eight,
And the ninth was a woman,
And she was the skipper's mate;
The ninth was a woman,
With a prayer upon her lip;
And the tenth was a little cabin-boy,
And this was his first trip.
As they drove upon the rocks,
Before they settled down,
They could see the happy windows
Along a shining town;
The flicker of the firelight
Came through the swirls of foam,
And they cried to one another,
“Oh! thus it looks at home!”
Before they settled down,
They could see the happy windows
Along a shining town;
The flicker of the firelight
Came through the swirls of foam,
And they cried to one another,
“Oh! thus it looks at home!”
33
By those bright hearths they guess'd not,
Closing their peaceful day,
How ten poor souls were drowning
Not half a mile away;
But there were some hardy fellows
Keeping a bright look-out,
Who had manned the life-boat long ago,
And launch'd her with a shout.
Closing their peaceful day,
How ten poor souls were drowning
Not half a mile away;
But there were some hardy fellows
Keeping a bright look-out,
Who had manned the life-boat long ago,
And launch'd her with a shout.
Out in the darkness, clinging
To broken mast and rope,
The ten were searching sea and sky
With eyes that had no hope;
And the moon made awful ridges
Of black against the clear,
And the life-boat over the ridges
Came leaping like a deer!
To broken mast and rope,
The ten were searching sea and sky
With eyes that had no hope;
And the moon made awful ridges
Of black against the clear,
And the life-boat over the ridges
Came leaping like a deer!
34
Up spoke the life-boat coxwain
When they came near the wreck,
“Who casts his life in this fierce sea
To carry a rope on deck?”
The men were all so willing
That they chose the first who spoke,
And he plunged into the breathless pause
Before a huge wave broke.
When they came near the wreck,
“Who casts his life in this fierce sea
To carry a rope on deck?”
The men were all so willing
That they chose the first who spoke,
And he plunged into the breathless pause
Before a huge wave broke.
And the wave sprang like a panther
And caught him by the neck,
And toss'd him, as you toss a ball,
Upon the shuddering wreck;
Faint eager hands upheld him
Till he had got his breath,
And could make fast the blessed rope—
A bridge to life from death.
And caught him by the neck,
And toss'd him, as you toss a ball,
Upon the shuddering wreck;
Faint eager hands upheld him
Till he had got his breath,
And could make fast the blessed rope—
A bridge to life from death.
35
There's many a precious cargo
Comes safe to British sands,
There's many a gallant fighting-man
About our British lands;
But I think our truest heroes
Are men with names unknown,
Who save a priceless freight of lives,
And never heed their own.
Comes safe to British sands,
There's many a gallant fighting-man
About our British lands;
But I think our truest heroes
Are men with names unknown,
Who save a priceless freight of lives,
And never heed their own.
Now bear those weary wanderers
From the dark shores below,
And warm them at the hearths whose light
They watch'd an hour ago;
And call the fishers and sailors
Gravely to see, and say,
“Our turn may come to-morrow,
As theirs has come to-day.”
From the dark shores below,
And warm them at the hearths whose light
They watch'd an hour ago;
And call the fishers and sailors
Gravely to see, and say,
“Our turn may come to-morrow,
As theirs has come to-day.”
36
Among the fishers and sailors
There came a sunburnt man,
And he stared at the little cabin-boy
Lying so white and wan;
Lying so white and speechless,
They thought his days were done:
And the sailor stared, and wrung his hands,
And cried, “It is my son!
There came a sunburnt man,
And he stared at the little cabin-boy
Lying so white and wan;
Lying so white and speechless,
They thought his days were done:
And the sailor stared, and wrung his hands,
And cried, “It is my son!
“Oh! I was bound for Plymouth,
And he for the coast of Spain,
But little I thought when we set sail
How we should meet again;
And who will tell his mother
How he is come ashore?
For though I loved him very much,
I know she loved him more!
And he for the coast of Spain,
But little I thought when we set sail
How we should meet again;
And who will tell his mother
How he is come ashore?
For though I loved him very much,
I know she loved him more!
37
“I'll kiss his lips full gently
Before they are quite cold,
And she shall take that kiss from mine
Ere this moon waxes old.”
“Father!” the pale lips murmur,
“Is mother with you here?”
The answer to these welcome words
Was a sob and then a cheer!
Before they are quite cold,
And she shall take that kiss from mine
Ere this moon waxes old.”
“Father!” the pale lips murmur,
“Is mother with you here?”
The answer to these welcome words
Was a sob and then a cheer!
The captain spoke at midnight,
When he saw the tossing sky,
“Alas! a woeful night is this,
And a woeful man am I.
Glad am I for my wife,” he said,
“And glad for my true men;
But alas for my little schooner,
She'll never sail agen!”
When he saw the tossing sky,
“Alas! a woeful night is this,
And a woeful man am I.
Glad am I for my wife,” he said,
“And glad for my true men;
But alas for my little schooner,
She'll never sail agen!”
38
Now all you life-boat heroes
Who reckon your lives so cheap,
You banish tears from other homes—
Make not your own to weep!
You cannot die like lions,
For all you are so strong;
While you are saving other lives,
God keep your own from wrong!
Who reckon your lives so cheap,
You banish tears from other homes—
Make not your own to weep!
You cannot die like lions,
For all you are so strong;
While you are saving other lives,
God keep your own from wrong!
74
A BOY'S ASPIRATIONS.
I was four yesterday: when I'm quite old,
I'll have a cricket-ball made of pure gold;
I'll carve the roast meat, and help soup and fish;
I'll get my feet wet whenever I wish;
I'll have a cricket-ball made of pure gold;
I'll carve the roast meat, and help soup and fish;
I'll get my feet wet whenever I wish;
I'll never go to bed till twelve o'clock;
I'll make a mud pie in a clean frock;
I'll whip the naughty boys with a new birch;
I'll take my guinea-pig always to church;
I'll make a mud pie in a clean frock;
75
I'll take my guinea-pig always to church;
I'll spend a hundred pounds every day;
I'll have the alphabet quite done away;
I'll have a parrot without a sharp beak;
I'll see a pantomime six times a week;
I'll have the alphabet quite done away;
I'll have a parrot without a sharp beak;
I'll see a pantomime six times a week;
I'll have a rose-tree, always in bloom;
I'll keep a dancing bear in Mamma's room;
I'll spoil my best clothes, and not care a pin;
I'll have no visitors ever let in;
I'll keep a dancing bear in Mamma's room;
I'll spoil my best clothes, and not care a pin;
I'll have no visitors ever let in;
76
I'll go at liberty up stairs or down;
I'll pin a dish-cloth to the cook's gown;
I'll light the candles, and ring the big bell;
I'll smoke Papa's pipe, feeling quite well;
I'll pin a dish-cloth to the cook's gown;
I'll light the candles, and ring the big bell;
I'll smoke Papa's pipe, feeling quite well;
I'll have a ball of string fifty miles long;
I'll have a whistle as loud as the gong;
I'll scold the housemaid for “making a dirt;”
I'll cut my fingers without being hurt;
I'll have a whistle as loud as the gong;
I'll scold the housemaid for “making a dirt;”
I'll cut my fingers without being hurt;
I'll have my pinafores quite loose and nice;
I'll wear great fishing-boots, like Captain Price;
I'll have a pot of beer at the girls' tea;
I'll have John taught to say “Thank you” to me;
77
I'll have a pot of beer at the girls' tea;
I'll have John taught to say “Thank you” to me;
I'll never stand up to show that I'm grown;
No one shall say to me, “Don't throw a stone!”
I'll drop my butter'd toast on the new chintz;
I'll have no governess, giving her hints!
No one shall say to me, “Don't throw a stone!”
I'll drop my butter'd toast on the new chintz;
I'll have no governess, giving her hints!
I'll have a nursery up in the stars;
I'll lean through windows without any bars;
I'll sail without my nurse in a big boat;
I'll have no comforters tied round my throat;
I'll lean through windows without any bars;
78
I'll have no comforters tied round my throat;
I'll have a language with not a word spell'd;
I'll ride on horseback without being held;
I'll hear Mamma say, “My boy, good as gold!”
When I'm a grown-up man, sixty years old.
I'll ride on horseback without being held;
I'll hear Mamma say, “My boy, good as gold!”
When I'm a grown-up man, sixty years old.
141
GRANDMAMMA AND THE FAIRIES.
In the pattern of the curtains
Upon Grandmamma's bed,
You may see the parks where fairies
Their nightly measures tread.
The white parts are their gravel walks,
Where freely they advance;
The green parts are the careful lawns,
Where they may only dance.
Upon Grandmamma's bed,
You may see the parks where fairies
Their nightly measures tread.
The white parts are their gravel walks,
Where freely they advance;
The green parts are the careful lawns,
Where they may only dance.
142
All the walks go winding,
And twisting in and out,
Where the little cheerful creatures
Wander and play about.
And two or three, more bold than wise,
Behind the pillow peep,
And whisper to their waiting friends
That Grandmamma's asleep.
And twisting in and out,
Where the little cheerful creatures
Wander and play about.
And two or three, more bold than wise,
Behind the pillow peep,
And whisper to their waiting friends
That Grandmamma's asleep.
Then they begin to rustle
Among the falling folds;
And some of them are singing,
And some have coughs and colds;
And some have little castanets,
And some have little drums;
And some (who fly) will stop and perch
On Grandmamma's thumbs.
Among the falling folds;
And some of them are singing,
And some have coughs and colds;
And some have little castanets,
And some have little drums;
And some (who fly) will stop and perch
On Grandmamma's thumbs.
143
Grandmamma grows restless,
And turns upon the bed;
She thinks she has been waken'd
By noises in her head.
And many a little threat of cramp
Across her frame she feels;
And many a small rheumatic pinch
About her hands and heels.
And turns upon the bed;
She thinks she has been waken'd
By noises in her head.
And many a little threat of cramp
Across her frame she feels;
And many a small rheumatic pinch
About her hands and heels.
Grandmamma grows plaintive:
When she was young, she says,
The long soft nights of slumber
Were pleasant as the days;
The steepest mountain in the world
Seem'd but a sunny slope;
And if the fairies talked at all,
They only talk'd of hope.
When she was young, she says,
The long soft nights of slumber
Were pleasant as the days;
The steepest mountain in the world
Seem'd but a sunny slope;
And if the fairies talked at all,
They only talk'd of hope.
144
She'll tell us all at breakfast
She had a wretched night;
The furniture was creaking,
The pillows were not right.
With bolted door and windows wedged,
The care was all in vain;
For there were noises in her room
Which nothing can explain.
She had a wretched night;
The furniture was creaking,
The pillows were not right.
With bolted door and windows wedged,
The care was all in vain;
For there were noises in her room
Which nothing can explain.
Then all suggest a reason:
Miss Grey alludes to gnats,
Aunt Hetty talks of robbers,
And Uncle James of rats.
Papa says, “Girls will brush their hair,
Such chattering little folks!”
Mamma says, “George was sitting up:
You know how hard he smokes!”
Miss Grey alludes to gnats,
Aunt Hetty talks of robbers,
And Uncle James of rats.
Papa says, “Girls will brush their hair,
Such chattering little folks!”
Mamma says, “George was sitting up:
You know how hard he smokes!”
145
But no one seems to notice,
While thus they fuss and guess,
A little whiff of laughter
Among the water-cress.
A fairy spy is station'd there,
Commission'd to record,
In a very short-hand summary,
Each blundering human word.
While thus they fuss and guess,
A little whiff of laughter
Among the water-cress.
A fairy spy is station'd there,
Commission'd to record,
In a very short-hand summary,
Each blundering human word.
If Grandmamma is clever,
When next the curtains shake,
She'll take her chance of fairies,
And tell them she's awake.
She'll let them see she knows their tricks,
And that they're far too late
To take a fine old lady in,
Who's turn'd of seventy-eight.
When next the curtains shake,
She'll take her chance of fairies,
And tell them she's awake.
She'll let them see she knows their tricks,
And that they're far too late
To take a fine old lady in,
Who's turn'd of seventy-eight.
146
A little show of spirit
Would bring them to their knees—
Would make them full of service,
Where now they only tease.
And then they might bring back again
That sweet time pass'd away,
When every night was full of sleep,
Of pleasure every day.
Would bring them to their knees—
Would make them full of service,
Where now they only tease.
And then they might bring back again
That sweet time pass'd away,
When every night was full of sleep,
Of pleasure every day.
That village shop, they'll show her,
Under the chestnut shade,
With the glorious sugar-candy,
Which is no longer made;
With the sheets of fine stage-characters,
And the scissors with no points,
And those delightful wooden dolls,
With pegs in all their joints:
Under the chestnut shade,
With the glorious sugar-candy,
Which is no longer made;
With the sheets of fine stage-characters,
And the scissors with no points,
And those delightful wooden dolls,
With pegs in all their joints:
147
That field with lofty hedges;
That elm-tree with a crest,
Where a blackbird sat so often,
She knows it had a nest;
And where she found the primroses
So early in the year;
And where she thinks she saw a snake
When nobody was near:
That elm-tree with a crest,
Where a blackbird sat so often,
She knows it had a nest;
And where she found the primroses
So early in the year;
And where she thinks she saw a snake
When nobody was near:
That garden with the peaches
Train'd on the old red wall;
The scent of that first myrtle
She pluck'd for her first ball;
And where she found a bouquet once—
Such fragrance and such tints!
I think it came from Grandpapa:
But that she never hints.
Train'd on the old red wall;
The scent of that first myrtle
She pluck'd for her first ball;
And where she found a bouquet once—
Such fragrance and such tints!
I think it came from Grandpapa:
But that she never hints.
148
She'll tell us all at breakfast
She had a lovely night;
And Grandpapa will whisper,
Because she looks so bright,
“You'll never match those eyes, my dears”
(He said this once, you know);
“They're even finer than they were—
Ah, sixty years ago.”
She had a lovely night;
And Grandpapa will whisper,
Because she looks so bright,
“You'll never match those eyes, my dears”
(He said this once, you know);
“They're even finer than they were—
Ah, sixty years ago.”
157
A NURSERY RHYME.
I found a little river in the sweet summer tide,
Lily, O Lily!
I wish that I were for ever by its side;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
I wish that I were for ever by its side;
Cool is the running water.
All its rocks were marble, shining with dew,
Lily, O Lily!
On each rock of marble a palace-flower grew;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
158
Cool is the running water.
Red were the palace-flowers, cups of red light;
Lily, O Lily!
White were the marble rocks, snow-clouds so white;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
White were the marble rocks, snow-clouds so white;
Cool is the running water.
In all the red cups butterflies sate,
Lily, O Lily!
Clad in new rainbows, and keeping their state;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
Clad in new rainbows, and keeping their state;
Cool is the running water.
159
These rainbow butterflies all sang like birds,
Lily, O Lily!
I know the tune, but I cannot tell the words;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
I know the tune, but I cannot tell the words;
Cool is the running water.
I felt the song in my heart like a fear,
Lily, O Lily!
I ran away because I was so near;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
I ran away because I was so near;
Cool is the running water.
If I had gone where the butterflies drew,
Lily, O Lily!
I should be there now with my feet in the dew;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
I should be there now with my feet in the dew;
Cool is the running water.
160
I should be there now, with my face in the light,
Lily, O Lily!
With a king-butterfly all day and night;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
With a king-butterfly all day and night;
Cool is the running water.
If I could tell what the butterflies said,
Lily, O Lily!
I should find my little river in its white bed;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
I should find my little river in its white bed;
Cool is the running water.
Comrades, search with me, run to and fro,
Lily, O Lily!
Tell if you find where the palace-flowers grow;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
Tell if you find where the palace-flowers grow;
Cool is the running water.
161
I know they are growing there, each like a star,
Lily, O Lily!
Any one may find them, if he seeks far;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
Any one may find them, if he seeks far;
Cool is the running water.
Tell if you hear any faint notes and sweet,
Lily, O Lily!
Like living music that flows to your feet;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
Like living music that flows to your feet;
Cool is the running water.
I know they are singing there, just the same song,
Lily, O Lily!
Any one may hear them if he listens long;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
Any one may hear them if he listens long;
Cool is the running water.
162
O! if they call you, go like the wind,
Lily, O Lily!
Take me beside you, leave me not behind;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
Take me beside you, leave me not behind;
Cool is the running water.
Take me beside you, over hill and plain,
Lily, O Lily!
O! my little river that I find not again;
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
O! my little river that I find not again;
Cool is the running water.
O! my little river, if I were on your shore,
Lily, O Lily!
I should live there, and not die, but sing evermore,
Cool is the running water.
Lily, O Lily!
I should live there, and not die, but sing evermore,
Cool is the running water.
234
WHAT MAY HAPPEN TO A THIMBLE.
Come about the meadow,
Hunt here and there,
Where's Mother's thimble?
Can you tell where?
Jane saw her wearing it,
Fan saw it fall,
Ned isn't sure
That she dropp'd it at all.
Hunt here and there,
Where's Mother's thimble?
Can you tell where?
Jane saw her wearing it,
Fan saw it fall,
Ned isn't sure
That she dropp'd it at all.
235
Has a mouse carried it
Down to her hole—
Home full of twilight,
Shady, small soul?
Can she be darning there,
Ere the light fails,
Small ragged stockings—
Tiny torn tails?
Down to her hole—
Home full of twilight,
Shady, small soul?
Can she be darning there,
Ere the light fails,
Small ragged stockings—
Tiny torn tails?
Did a finch fly with it
Into the hedge,
Or a reed-warbler
Down in the sedge?
Are they carousing there,
All the night through?
Such a great goblet,
Brimful of dew!
Into the hedge,
Or a reed-warbler
Down in the sedge?
Are they carousing there,
All the night through?
Such a great goblet,
Brimful of dew!
236
Have beetles crept with it
Where oak roots hide?
There they have settled it
Down on its side?
Neat little kennel,
So cosy and dark,
Has one crept into it,
Trying to bark?
Where oak roots hide?
There they have settled it
Down on its side?
Neat little kennel,
So cosy and dark,
Has one crept into it,
Trying to bark?
Have the ants cover'd it
With straw and sand?
Roomy bell-tent for them,
So tall and grand;
Where the red soldier-ants
Lie, loll and lean—
While the blacks steadily
Build for their queen.
With straw and sand?
Roomy bell-tent for them,
So tall and grand;
Where the red soldier-ants
Lie, loll and lean—
While the blacks steadily
Build for their queen.
237
Has a huge dragon-fly
Borne it (how cool!)
To his snug dressing-room,
By the clear pool?
There will he try it on?
For a new hat—
Nobody watching
But one water-rat?
Borne it (how cool!)
To his snug dressing-room,
By the clear pool?
There will he try it on?
For a new hat—
Nobody watching
But one water-rat?
Did the flowers fight for it,
While, undescried,
One selfish daisy
Slipp'd it aside;
Now she has plunged it in
Close to her feet—
Nice private water-tank
For summer heat?
While, undescried,
One selfish daisy
Slipp'd it aside;
Now she has plunged it in
Close to her feet—
Nice private water-tank
For summer heat?
238
Did spiders snatch at it,
Wanting to look
At the bright pebbles
Which lie in the brook?
Now are they using it
(Nobody knows!),
Safe little diving-bell,
Shutting so close?
Wanting to look
At the bright pebbles
Which lie in the brook?
Now are they using it
(Nobody knows!),
Safe little diving-bell,
Shutting so close?
Did a rash squirrel there,
Wanting to dine,
Think it some foreign nut,
Dainty and fine.
Can he have swallow'd it,
Up in that oak?
We, if we listen,
Shall soon hear him choke.
Wanting to dine,
Think it some foreign nut,
Dainty and fine.
Can he have swallow'd it,
Up in that oak?
We, if we listen,
Shall soon hear him choke.
Has it been buried by
Cross imps and hags,
Wanting to see us
Like beggars in rags?
Or have fays hidden it,
Lest we should be
Tortured with needlework
After our tea?
Cross imps and hags,
Wanting to see us
Like beggars in rags?
Or have fays hidden it,
Lest we should be
Tortured with needlework
After our tea?
Hunt for it, hope for it,
All through the moss;
Dip for it, grope for it—
'Tis such a loss!
Jane finds a drop of dew,
Fan finds a stone;
I find the thimble,
Which is Mother's own!
All through the moss;
Dip for it, grope for it—
'Tis such a loss!
Jane finds a drop of dew,
Fan finds a stone;
I find the thimble,
Which is Mother's own!
240
Run with it, fly with it—
Don't let it fall;
All did their best for it—
Mother thanks all.
Just as we give it her,—
Think what a shame!—
Ned says he's sure
That it isn't the same!
Don't let it fall;
All did their best for it—
Mother thanks all.
Just as we give it her,—
Think what a shame!—
Ned says he's sure
That it isn't the same!
247
ONCE.
Sing to me, nightingale, that sweet tune
You sang last night to the waning moon!
It filled the shadow, it pierced the light;
It made a day in the midst of night.
I want to hear it before I die.
Sing till the moon comes out of the sky!
“No, no!” the nightingale sings;
“Once is enough for all best things!
I shall trill many a lovely strain;
But I never shall sing that song again!”
You sang last night to the waning moon!
It filled the shadow, it pierced the light;
It made a day in the midst of night.
I want to hear it before I die.
Sing till the moon comes out of the sky!
“No, no!” the nightingale sings;
“Once is enough for all best things!
248
But I never shall sing that song again!”
Make for me, sky, that tender hue
You made last night ere the sun dropped through!—
Colour melted in burning air,
Flowing we know not whence nor where.
Before I die I want to see—
Make that colour again for me!
“No, no! I paint all day
Rose and amethyst, gold and grey,
Purple precipice, silver rain;
But I never shall paint that hue again.”
You made last night ere the sun dropped through!—
Colour melted in burning air,
Flowing we know not whence nor where.
Before I die I want to see—
Make that colour again for me!
“No, no! I paint all day
Rose and amethyst, gold and grey,
Purple precipice, silver rain;
But I never shall paint that hue again.”
Breathe to me, friend, that deep lovetone
You breathed last night when we were alone;
It told a life which I never guessed,
It covered sorrow with floods of rest.
Before I die, I want to know
Whether you always love me so.
“No, no! The moment came
Once, but never again the same:
Once, deep Love finds utterance clear;
Often silent, 't is always here.
249
It told a life which I never guessed,
It covered sorrow with floods of rest.
Before I die, I want to know
Whether you always love me so.
“No, no! The moment came
Once, but never again the same:
Once, deep Love finds utterance clear;
Often silent, 't is always here.
| Child-world (1869) | |