Songs and Lyrics By Joseph Skipsey. Collected and Revised |
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To W. R.
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 | Songs and Lyrics |  |
161
To W. R.
A Friend in Australia.
O wily Willie Reay, I've read
Your book of rhymes, and be it said
Few sweeter rhymes were ever made
To grace our tongue
Since Burns, with Scotia's Muse's aid,
His ditties sung.
Your book of rhymes, and be it said
Few sweeter rhymes were ever made
To grace our tongue
Since Burns, with Scotia's Muse's aid,
His ditties sung.
The bonnie banks of Wanie's burn,
With Bothal's Castle, old and stern,
And fane revered where in an urn
Of fame's yet shown,
Engage your charming muse in turn
With scenes less known.
With Bothal's Castle, old and stern,
And fane revered where in an urn
Of fame's yet shown,
Engage your charming muse in turn
With scenes less known.
The coy bell-blooms in purple dark,—
Shade-loving mays that seem to hark
To what the skyward soaring lark
May o'er them sing,—
You in the wood with pleasure mark
Return each Spring.
Shade-loving mays that seem to hark
To what the skyward soaring lark
May o'er them sing,—
You in the wood with pleasure mark
Return each Spring.
Delighted, too, you see unclose
The petals of the pale primrose;
The sweetest flower that comes and goes,
While—life to hear!
Yet down the glen the blackbird blows
His whistle clear.
The petals of the pale primrose;
The sweetest flower that comes and goes,
While—life to hear!
Yet down the glen the blackbird blows
His whistle clear.
162
E'en so your heart dirls to behold
The little daisy's charms unfold,
As when with me in days of old,
Its blooms among,
You heard the linnet's love-tale told
In many a song.
The little daisy's charms unfold,
As when with me in days of old,
Its blooms among,
You heard the linnet's love-tale told
In many a song.
O'er these and scenes like these you brood;
And when wrapt in a higher mood,
The aidance of the muse is sued,
Then, then behold;
Their living pictures many-hued
Your lines unfold.
And when wrapt in a higher mood,
The aidance of the muse is sued,
Then, then behold;
Their living pictures many-hued
Your lines unfold.
Nor less to you than Wanie rare,
The banks of Wear, beyond compare,
For castles grand, whose towers yet wear
The airs they wore,
When steel-girt enemies drew near,
In days of yore.
The banks of Wear, beyond compare,
For castles grand, whose towers yet wear
The airs they wore,
When steel-girt enemies drew near,
In days of yore.
There Lumley bold to Lambton shows
A front that almost threatens blows;
And Lambton up the valley throws
A look at him,
With which her lords once answered foes
In battle grim.
A front that almost threatens blows;
And Lambton up the valley throws
A look at him,
With which her lords once answered foes
In battle grim.
But scenes of war and war's alarms,
Proud prancing steeds and knights at arms,
And other founts of human harms,
Ah, let us fly
To scenes of peace;—still, these have charms
For you and I.
Proud prancing steeds and knights at arms,
And other founts of human harms,
Ah, let us fly
To scenes of peace;—still, these have charms
For you and I.
163
Away, away then let us steer
Our courses higher up the Wear,
To where old Finchale's ruins dear,
For ages vast,
Have looked into the waters clear,
That gurgle past.
Our courses higher up the Wear,
To where old Finchale's ruins dear,
For ages vast,
Have looked into the waters clear,
That gurgle past.
Beneath yon trees once grim and stern—
Which seem in fancy's ken to yearn
For days that were when they would spurn
And backward beat
The fiercest blast that blew—we'll turn
And take a seat.
Which seem in fancy's ken to yearn
For days that were when they would spurn
And backward beat
The fiercest blast that blew—we'll turn
And take a seat.
Upon the crispy fern we'll rest
And gaze upon the scene possest
Of what is sweetest, dearest, best,
To souls like ours;
The winding slopes in verdure drest—
The trees and flowers.
And gaze upon the scene possest
Of what is sweetest, dearest, best,
To souls like ours;
The winding slopes in verdure drest—
The trees and flowers.
Hard by in shade the foxglove dwells,
And rears on high her purple bells,
From which, when wind-a-dangled, wells
In fancy's ear
An air no mortal air excels,
Nor yet can peer.
And rears on high her purple bells,
From which, when wind-a-dangled, wells
In fancy's ear
An air no mortal air excels,
Nor yet can peer.
There may one see the poppy burn
Amid the yet green waving corn;
And when the yellow grain is shorn,
We yet may see
This black-eyed crimson queen adorn
In tufts the lea.
Amid the yet green waving corn;
And when the yellow grain is shorn,
We yet may see
This black-eyed crimson queen adorn
In tufts the lea.
164
Blue-bottles too, whose tender hue
Will match the sky's own lovely blue,
Upon an early morn, we'll view,
A pleasure rare:
But how can I describe to you
What we'll see there?
Will match the sky's own lovely blue,
Upon an early morn, we'll view,
A pleasure rare:
But how can I describe to you
What we'll see there?
There, there upon a holiday,
Will toilers in their best array,
Come with their little ones to play,
A pleasant sight;
And many a prank is played ere day
Hath taken flight.
Will toilers in their best array,
Come with their little ones to play,
A pleasant sight;
And many a prank is played ere day
Hath taken flight.
There, on some bonnie afternoon,
While bees awake a drowsy tune;
Or, later on, while cushats croon
A heartfelt lay,
And o'er them hangs the yellow moon,
Will lovers stray.
While bees awake a drowsy tune;
Or, later on, while cushats croon
A heartfelt lay,
And o'er them hangs the yellow moon,
Will lovers stray.
In such an hour it were a treat
To hear our minstrel's self repeat
His May Morning, in accents meet;
That carol true,
And one more musical and sweet,
I never knew.
To hear our minstrel's self repeat
His May Morning, in accents meet;
That carol true,
And one more musical and sweet,
I never knew.
The gift to warble such a song
Can but to Nature's bards belong,
With whom we'd rather dree the prong
Of Want's grim self,
Than revel with you gilded throng
That worship pelf.
Can but to Nature's bards belong,
With whom we'd rather dree the prong
Of Want's grim self,
Than revel with you gilded throng
That worship pelf.
165
Ah! never crony let us fash
Our heads about a lot of cash;
Nor seek with sparks to cut a dash;
Compared, I say,
What are the gauds they prize but trash
To one sweet lay.
Our heads about a lot of cash;
Nor seek with sparks to cut a dash;
Compared, I say,
What are the gauds they prize but trash
To one sweet lay.
This, when away yon castles proud
Have vanished like some ragged cloud,
That nor'-land winds a-piping loud
Have o'er them blown,
May yet to hearts by labour bowed
A joy be known.
Have vanished like some ragged cloud,
That nor'-land winds a-piping loud
Have o'er them blown,
May yet to hearts by labour bowed
A joy be known.
And such a lay let me aver
Will prove “May Morning” or I err;
And “Jenny,” too, tho' I prefer
To this a third;
E'en that wherein you curse the cur
That shot the bird.
Will prove “May Morning” or I err;
And “Jenny,” too, tho' I prefer
To this a third;
E'en that wherein you curse the cur
That shot the bird.
All these are very sweet and fine,
And to my palate, precious wine,
And every stanza, every line,
As water clear,
Awakes a melody divine
To charm the ear.
And to my palate, precious wine,
And every stanza, every line,
As water clear,
Awakes a melody divine
To charm the ear.
But end I must; awhile adieu
To you and those so dear to you;
And hinney, Willie, kiss them, do,
Your bairns and wife,
In kind remembrance of your true,
Fond friend for life.
To you and those so dear to you;
And hinney, Willie, kiss them, do,
Your bairns and wife,
In kind remembrance of your true,
Fond friend for life.
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