 | New Ballads |  |
45
A HIGHWAY PIMPERNEL
Blossoms and buds, purple or pale,
In saffron kerchiefs or watchet snoods,
Linger in ditches, crowd in the dale,
In passionate tempers, or languorous moods,
High on the hill, deep in the vale,
Over the fences and into the woods!
In saffron kerchiefs or watchet snoods,
Linger in ditches, crowd in the dale,
In passionate tempers, or languorous moods,
High on the hill, deep in the vale,
Over the fences and into the woods!
Richer and sweeter far than the rest,
On the edge of the rut the cart-wheels chafe,
Like a fairy-buoy on a billow's crest,
Hangs a wonderful little waif:
A pimpernel, clutching the earth's warm breast,
Rocked by the traffic and sleeping safe.
On the edge of the rut the cart-wheels chafe,
Like a fairy-buoy on a billow's crest,
Hangs a wonderful little waif:
A pimpernel, clutching the earth's warm breast,
Rocked by the traffic and sleeping safe.
46
All the morning in crimson state
It flashed and glowed with zeal entire.
All the morning, steady as fate,
Aflame with courage and high desire,
It watched the sun, its skyey mate,
Lighting the world with golden fire.
It flashed and glowed with zeal entire.
All the morning, steady as fate,
Aflame with courage and high desire,
It watched the sun, its skyey mate,
Lighting the world with golden fire.
But not a petal now will budge—
Fast asleep since the stroke of noon!
And weary beggar and hawker trudge
Grazing its leaves with their mouldy shoon,
And wheels and hoofs go by with a grudge
To think that a flower should rest so soon!
Fast asleep since the stroke of noon!
And weary beggar and hawker trudge
Grazing its leaves with their mouldy shoon,
And wheels and hoofs go by with a grudge
To think that a flower should rest so soon!
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