 | Poems By Jean Ingelow: Third Series |  |
SONG.
I
Rain clouds flew beyond the fell,No more did thunders lower,
Patter, patter, on the beck
Dropt a clearing shower.
Eddying floats of creamy foam
Flecked the waters brown,
As we rode up to cross the ford,
Rode up from yonder town.
Waiting on the weather,
She and I together,
Waiting on the weather,
Till the flood went down.
II
The sun came out, the wet leaf shone,Dripped the wildwood vine.
Betide me well, betide me woe,
That hour's for ever mine.
With thee Mary, with thee Mary,
Full oft I pace again,
61
And hold thy bridle rein.
Waiting on the weather,
Thou and I together,
Waiting on the weather,
Till the flood shall wane.
III
And who, though hope did come to nought,Would memory give away?
I lighted down, she leaned full low,
Nor chid that hour's delay.
With thee Mary, with thee Mary,
Methought my life to crown,
But we ride up, but we ride up,
No more from yonder town.
Waiting on the weather,
Thou and I together,
Waiting on the weather,
Till the flood go down.
(aside).
Well, very well; but what of fiddler Sam?
I ask you, neighbours, if't be not his turn.
An honest man, and ever pays his score;
Born in the parish, old, blind as a bat,
And strangers sing before him; 'tis a shame!
Mrs. S.
(aside).
Ay, but his daughter—
62
(aside).
Why, the maid's a maid
One would not set to guide the chant in church,
But when she sings to earn her father's bread,
The mildest mother's son may cry ‘Amen.’
Mrs. S.
(aside).
They say he plays not always true.
Mrs. J.
(aside).
What then?
Mrs. T.
(aside).
Here comes my lady. She's too fat by half
For love songs. O! the lace upon her gown,
I wish I had the getting of it up,
'Twould be a pretty penny in my pouch.
Mrs. J.
(aside).
Be quiet now for manners.
Vicar presents a lady, who sings.
| Poems By Jean Ingelow: Third Series | |