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 | Weeping-Cross and Other Rimes by A. H. Bullen |  |
15
WEEPING-CROSS
With bold heart, high-aspiring aim,Forth fared he in the morning gray,
To storm the Citadel of Fame
And win a crown of fadeless bay:
Ungarlanded, at day's decline,
Ruefully weighing gain with loss,
When neither moon nor star did shine,
Homeward he stole by Weeping-Cross.
11th November, 1917.
16
CAPTAIN DOVER AND THE COTSWOLD GAMES
[_]
[“Captain” Robert Dover, 1575-1641, an attorney, migrated from Barton-on-the-Heath to Stanway, in the Cotswolds. He founded the Cotswold Games— sometimes styled the “Olympick Games”—in 1604 and continued to preside over them till his death in 1641. Annalia Dubrensia, a collection of poems by various hands (famous and obscure) in praise of Dover and descriptive of the games, appeared in 1636; 2nd ed. by Dr. Thomas Dover, in 1700; reprinted by Grosart and others in recent times. The hill where the Games were held, near Chipping Campden, is still called “Dover's Hill.” Excellent cyder is made in the neighbourhood. “Dover Castle” was a wooden erection that turned on a pivot; an umpire's observation post, fitted with culverins.]
By Dover's Hill are orchards fine
With golden apples gleaming,
And there was crusht the juice divine
That sets us all a-dreaming.
With golden apples gleaming,
And there was crusht the juice divine
That sets us all a-dreaming.
Fill up, fill up
Each lad his cup
With foxwhelp brimming over,
And drink with me
To the memory
Of gallant Captain Dover!
Each lad his cup
With foxwhelp brimming over,
And drink with me
To the memory
Of gallant Captain Dover!
17
The Cotswold Games for voice and pen
A worthy theme afforded;
By Randolph, Heywood, Drayton, Ben
Were Dover's deeds recorded.
A worthy theme afforded;
By Randolph, Heywood, Drayton, Ben
Were Dover's deeds recorded.
Folk rode at quintain; they wrestled; they hurled;
With cudgel and staff they battled;
'Twas the merriest, maddest sport in the world
When the raps round their sconces rattled.
With cudgel and staff they battled;
'Twas the merriest, maddest sport in the world
When the raps round their sconces rattled.
Broad quoits were whirling or gamesters keen
Their luck at bowls would be proving;
And archers trim in Lincoln Green
At butts were pricking and roving.
Their luck at bowls would be proving;
And archers trim in Lincoln Green
At butts were pricking and roving.
Some fell to barley-brake and some
Their Irish-hays were dancing;
The Morris tripped it to bagpipe and drum,
And Wyhy! came hobby-horse prancing.
Their Irish-hays were dancing;
The Morris tripped it to bagpipe and drum,
And Wyhy! came hobby-horse prancing.
Now racing nags swept over the field
With a musical mirthful clatter;
While from Dover Castle the culverins peeled
A volley the welkin to shatter.
With a musical mirthful clatter;
While from Dover Castle the culverins peeled
A volley the welkin to shatter.
And Captain Dover, admired of all,
With ruff and yellow favour,
His white horse rode majestical,
Not the Persian Sophy graver.
With ruff and yellow favour,
His white horse rode majestical,
Not the Persian Sophy graver.
18
Oh, rich and rare his accoutrement
As he rode in the Whitsun weather,
For the King from his own wardrobe had sent
The cloak, the beaver, and feather.
As he rode in the Whitsun weather,
For the King from his own wardrobe had sent
The cloak, the beaver, and feather.
For two score years with mickle praise
He at the Games presided,
Then stoopt to Fate ere civil frays
The hapless realm divided.
He at the Games presided,
Then stoopt to Fate ere civil frays
The hapless realm divided.
Yet lives he unforgotten still
In Cotswold rime and story;
His kindly phantom haunts the hill
Where once he rode in glory.
In Cotswold rime and story;
His kindly phantom haunts the hill
Where once he rode in glory.
My song is done, my throat is dry,
There's liquor yet before us;
So once again lift glasses high
And sing we all in chorus—
There's liquor yet before us;
So once again lift glasses high
And sing we all in chorus—
Fill up, fill up
Each lad his cup
With foxwhelp brimming over,
And drink with me
To the memory
Of gallant Captain Dover!
Each lad his cup
With foxwhelp brimming over,
And drink with me
To the memory
Of gallant Captain Dover!
19
THE WILLOW
Old Christian Fathers laud the willow treeAs type and pattern of virginity:
Yet ten short moons ago on osier bed
Strephon woo'd Chloe, and so well he sped
That now of willow wands a cradle's weaving
For their love-babe; and sorely Chloe's grieving.
20
THE ALMOND TREE
When ne'er a bud in brake or brereDurst February's front oppose,
The Almond, spurning coward fear,
In all her blossom'd bravery shows:
So forward buds of England's youth,
Who with the valorous Almond vie,
Nurselings of Righteousness and Truth,
The blustering foe's rude threats defy.
21
THE OAK
“Dodona's oaks were through the world renown'd.”
Their riddling answers oft did men confound.
Their riddling answers oft did men confound.
“Our Dryads were to mortals ever good.”
Your Druid altars smoked with human blood.
Your Druid altars smoked with human blood.
“We saved your second Charles from dread mishap.”
King David's son you caught in deadly trap.
King David's son you caught in deadly trap.
“In oaken pulpit parsons preach'd and pray'd.”
From oaken gibbet poor folk swung and sway'd.
From oaken gibbet poor folk swung and sway'd.
“Rare banquets on oak-board were richly spread.”
Oak-coffins were the revellers' last bed.
Oak-coffins were the revellers' last bed.
“Who carried Drake through strange uncharted seas?”
Be all your faults forgot, heroic trees!
Be all your faults forgot, heroic trees!
22
THE BEECH
Menalcas from the Dogstar's rage
'Neath shady beech sought cool retreat
And, envying nor king nor sage,
Piped blithe at Amaryllis' feet—
Once in the happy Pastoral Age.
'Neath shady beech sought cool retreat
And, envying nor king nor sage,
Piped blithe at Amaryllis' feet—
Once in the happy Pastoral Age.
No warlike drum was then to hear!
With beechen cup and beechen platter
Shepherd and nymph made simple cheer;
They'd tell old tales and gaily chatter,—
He knew no guile, she knew no fear.
With beechen cup and beechen platter
Shepherd and nymph made simple cheer;
They'd tell old tales and gaily chatter,—
He knew no guile, she knew no fear.
In hollow beech-bole bees would hive,
While dormouse on his garner'd heap
Of nutty kernels well did thrive,
And squirrel 'mid beech-branches leap:—
Great Pan, 'twas good to be alive!
While dormouse on his garner'd heap
Of nutty kernels well did thrive,
And squirrel 'mid beech-branches leap:—
Great Pan, 'twas good to be alive!
23
THE LIME
In childhood's day with wondering delight
I watched you spring so comely, tall, upright:
Methought of all the trees I'd ever seen
Was none whose leaf matched yours for living green.
And when at blossom-tide a fragrance rare
Flew from your flow'ring boughs through trancèd air,
The strange bewitching charm me so amazed
That my weak childish wit was well-nigh crazed.
I watched you spring so comely, tall, upright:
Methought of all the trees I'd ever seen
Was none whose leaf matched yours for living green.
And when at blossom-tide a fragrance rare
Flew from your flow'ring boughs through trancèd air,
The strange bewitching charm me so amazed
That my weak childish wit was well-nigh crazed.
At school I came in Ovid's page to know
Of Baucis and Philemon, long ago
Who high Jove entertain'd and Maia's son,
When poor simplicity rich guerdon won;
For in extreme old age, on selfsame day,
By grace of Jove they put off outworn clay,
And—he to oak, she changed to lime—they stand
By a fair temple in far Phrygian land.
Of Baucis and Philemon, long ago
Who high Jove entertain'd and Maia's son,
When poor simplicity rich guerdon won;
For in extreme old age, on selfsame day,
By grace of Jove they put off outworn clay,
And—he to oak, she changed to lime—they stand
By a fair temple in far Phrygian land.
24
JESSAMINE AND BIRCH
“The golden jessamine looks rare
Beside that cottage door:
Who'd guess that anything so fair
Our bleak December bore?”
Beside that cottage door:
Who'd guess that anything so fair
Our bleak December bore?”
So I: well-pleased he stood to mark,
Then on the frozen road
A league and more through gathering dark
At brisker pace we strode.
Then on the frozen road
A league and more through gathering dark
At brisker pace we strode.
All-suddenly the moon's full face
Shone clear without a smirch,
And upsprang—miracle of grace—
A silver-plumèd birch.
Shone clear without a smirch,
And upsprang—miracle of grace—
A silver-plumèd birch.
Then he: “December, fools will say,
Is bankrupt of delight;
Yet jessamine flaunts gold by day,
And birch o'ersilvers night!”
Is bankrupt of delight;
Yet jessamine flaunts gold by day,
And birch o'ersilvers night!”
25
BY AVON STREAM
The jonquils bloom round Samarcand.—
Maybe; but lulled by Avon stream,
By hawthorn-scented breezes fanned,
'Twere mere perversity to dream
Of Samarcand.
Maybe; but lulled by Avon stream,
By hawthorn-scented breezes fanned,
'Twere mere perversity to dream
Of Samarcand.
A very heaven the Javan isle!—
Fond fancy, whither wilt thou stray?
While bluest skies benignant smile
On Avon meads, why prate to-day
Of Javan isle?
Fond fancy, whither wilt thou stray?
While bluest skies benignant smile
On Avon meads, why prate to-day
Of Javan isle?
The bulbul 'plains by Omar's shrine.—
But still I hold, and ever must,
Lark's tirra-lirra more divine;
And Stratford Church guards dearer dust
Than Omar's shrine.
But still I hold, and ever must,
Lark's tirra-lirra more divine;
And Stratford Church guards dearer dust
Than Omar's shrine.
21st May, 1916.
26
AGEING HOPE
As I still older grow,
Still do my cares increase:
God grant, ere hence I go,
A few brief hours of peace,
That, vexed no more by blows
Of Fortune's felon spite,
I draw to journey's close
In tranquil fading light.
Still do my cares increase:
God grant, ere hence I go,
A few brief hours of peace,
That, vexed no more by blows
Of Fortune's felon spite,
I draw to journey's close
In tranquil fading light.
If prayer be idle breath,
And hope yield to despair,
To welcome kindly Death
I'll my sick soul prepare.
And hope yield to despair,
To welcome kindly Death
I'll my sick soul prepare.
27
LOOKING FORWARD
“After the war,” I hear men say,
“Never a war will be.
A League of Nations will bear sway
O'er earth and sky and sea.”
“Never a war will be.
A League of Nations will bear sway
O'er earth and sky and sea.”
Ah, but if e'er should dawn a day
By Fate's malign decree,
When England lies the sport and prey
Of crazed Democracy!
By Fate's malign decree,
When England lies the sport and prey
Of crazed Democracy!
Better unending battle-fray,
So English hearts be free,
Than mutely wear to dull decay
In ignobility.
So English hearts be free,
Than mutely wear to dull decay
In ignobility.
September, 1918.
28
GEORGE CANNING
Canning, the saddest of the sad,The gayest of the gay!
A wiser statesman ne'er we had:
Would you were here to-day!
“PORT AFTER STORMIE SEAS”
PALLADAS OF ALEXANDRIA
With Hope and Fortune I have closed the score;The harbour's reached; they'll cozen me no more:
Poor, but with freedom housed, away turn I
From wanton wealth that mocks at poverty.
Anthol. Palat. ix. 172.
29
UNREST
How good 'twill be to dream,When winter nights come soon,
By firelight's cheery gleam!
I'd ask no better boon.—
Lo, now the winter night
Has come; the fire's aglow:
Dream then and hug delight:
Freely, my fancy, flow!—
Woe's me! I hear the wind
Moan, like a child in pain:
Sad thoughts torment my mind:
Ah for the soft June rain!
30
A WELCOME IN WAR-TIME
(Louise, born 22 January, 1917.)
From distant unknown star
She comes to troubled earth,
In days of wasting war,
Much dolour, little mirth:
Strange time to choose for birth!
She comes to troubled earth,
In days of wasting war,
Much dolour, little mirth:
Strange time to choose for birth!
O Mary Mother, guard
The small adventuring wight;
Angels, keep watch and ward
Over her, day and night,
That naught may her affright.
The small adventuring wight;
Angels, keep watch and ward
Over her, day and night,
That naught may her affright.
Ah may she live to see,
When desperate strife shall cease,
In happier days to be,
As faith, hope, love increase,
The radiant reign of Peace!
When desperate strife shall cease,
In happier days to be,
As faith, hope, love increase,
The radiant reign of Peace!
31
TO CAPTAIN L--- F---.
Your friend is kill'd, and you're heart-broken:
Alas! what's here to say?
No word that e'er was writ or spoken
Can 'suage your grief to-day.
Alas! what's here to say?
No word that e'er was writ or spoken
Can 'suage your grief to-day.
So young he was, so frank, clean-living,
A very maiden-knight;
He seem'd a gift of God's own giving:
And now you're plunged in night.
A very maiden-knight;
He seem'd a gift of God's own giving:
And now you're plunged in night.
“Him to have saved I'd gladly perish!”
Vain cry; 'twas will'd that he
Should pass, and you be left to cherish
A stainless memory.
Vain cry; 'twas will'd that he
Should pass, and you be left to cherish
A stainless memory.
But your undying souls were plighted,
And surely—late or soon—
Somewhere they will be reunited
In lands beyond the moon.
And surely—late or soon—
Somewhere they will be reunited
In lands beyond the moon.
32
RUNAWAY GOLD
[_]
[Anacreontea, LVIII. The original is more than usually corrupt; I have rendered part of it, but towards the end the text becomes hopeless.]
Like the wind and no less fleet,
Flies me, as he flies alway,
Gold, that arrant Runaway,
I pursue not; who is fain
To hunt home a hateful bane?
Free from Runaway Gold, my breast
Is of sorrow dispossest:
I, to all the winds that blow,
All my cares abroad may throw:
I may take my lyre and raise
Jocund songs in Cupid's praise.
When my wary sprite disdains
To be trapp'd by Runaway's trains,
Suddenly he hies unto me
And with trouble would undo me;
Hoping that himself I'll take
And my darling lyre forsake.
Faithless Gold, thy labour's naught;
By thy snares I'll not be caught:
More delight than Gold doth bring
I can gain from my lute string.
Thou men's hearts didst sow with guile
And with envy them defile;
But the lyre......[OMITTED]
33
EPICHARMUS' COUNSEL
Be wary; practise incredulityWhich makes the soul subtle and sinewy.
TO CRINAGORAS OF MITYLENE
When in Elysium I shall seek out thoseWho've much delighted me in verse or prose,
Kindly Crinagoras, I will never rest
Until I find your shade among the Blest;
And sure I am that you will not repel
Me who have loved you long and loved you well.
34
LAIS GROWN OLD
Secundus
I, Lais, who aforetime was a dartTo pierce men to the heart,
Lais no more, Time's Nemesis am now,
Mark for each censuring brow.
By Cypris—(now of Cypris what know I
Save name for swearing by?)—
E'en Lais' self no longer Lais' eyes
To-day do recognise.
35
“HAD I WIST”
“Beware of Had I Wist:” the proverb's old,Yet wilful youth still grasps at phantom gold:
Ah, had I ta'en the wholesome saw to heart,
What ills had I been spared, what bitter smart!
LUCK AND WISDOM
Θελω τυχης σταλαγμον η φρενων πιθον
Philosophers may boast and brag,
But I say with the Grecian wag,
“A tun of wisdom I'd give up
For one sip from Good-Fortune's cup!”
36
HESTIÆUS PONTICUS
Old Hestiæus, learnèd dunce,—
(So Grecian gossips tell the story)
Through all his lifetime never once
Saw the sun rise or set in glory:
Over his scrolls he'd constant pore
To pack his pate with curious lore.
(So Grecian gossips tell the story)
Through all his lifetime never once
Saw the sun rise or set in glory:
Over his scrolls he'd constant pore
To pack his pate with curious lore.
Hail, sage of Pontus! you and I
Were surely bred at Dullheads' College:
While the green light's in western sky,
I'm searching books for useless knowledge!
And ah, how seldom have mine eyes
Beheld the glorious morning rise!
Were surely bred at Dullheads' College:
While the green light's in western sky,
I'm searching books for useless knowledge!
And ah, how seldom have mine eyes
Beheld the glorious morning rise!
4th October, 1918.
37
GOD'S BEASTS
“God's beasts are we,” learn'd Doctors hold,And beasts ne'er dread the fall of night:
When shades of death would us enfold,
Why quail we in the waning light?
The dark, pleasaunce of ancient peace,
Welcome to all and each will give;
To dote on garish toys we'll cease,
And then at last begin to live.
23rd September, 1918.
38
LIGHT O' LOVE
I loved yon Hawthorn passing well,
So late the pride and crown of May;
“There's naught,” I swore, “that can excel
Hawthorn for scent and rich array:”
Now fickle I
My oaths reny
And vow these starry elder-flowers—
For fragrance rare,
Hue fresh and fair—
Put down all gaudy Hawthorn-bowers.
So late the pride and crown of May;
“There's naught,” I swore, “that can excel
Hawthorn for scent and rich array:”
Now fickle I
My oaths reny
And vow these starry elder-flowers—
For fragrance rare,
Hue fresh and fair—
Put down all gaudy Hawthorn-bowers.
Since I have once falsed faith, I fear
My restless fancy will be ranging
And still, as older grows the year,
Old loves for new I shall be changing:
Soon Eglantine
Her wreaths will twine
And Elder-flowers no more be seen,
Then without shame
I will acclaim
Lush Eglantine the Summer's Queen.
My restless fancy will be ranging
And still, as older grows the year,
Old loves for new I shall be changing:
Soon Eglantine
Her wreaths will twine
And Elder-flowers no more be seen,
Then without shame
I will acclaim
Lush Eglantine the Summer's Queen.
4th June, 1918.
39
SOUTHEY'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK
When doggèd discontent doth me oppress(Begot—and born—I know not when or how),
And all life looms one forlorn wilderness
Without or singing bird or blossoming bough,
These well-loved tomes then take I from the shelf,
And my dull sprite, that lumpish care dismayed,
Is quickly dancing, gay as wanton elf
That laughs and leaps in moonlit forest glade.
40
CORINTH
Antipater of Sidon
O Dorian Corinth, where is now thy dazzling beauty? whereThy crown of towers, thine ancient store of treasures rich and rare?
Where are thy fanes and palaces? Where the Sisyphian wives?
Of all thy thronging myriads, alack, what now survives?
City of sorrows, ne'er a trace of thee is left to-day:
War hath confounded thee, his teeth have eaten all away;
We Nereids of Ocean's race alone from scathe are free,
Abiding here—with halcyon strains to wail the woe of thee.
Anthol. Planud.
41
THE WHISPERER
Still by meadow and stream
When I saunter and muse and dream,
A mocking whisper I hear—
“Old Age draweth a-near.”
When I saunter and muse and dream,
A mocking whisper I hear—
“Old Age draweth a-near.”
When fancy would be weaving
Gay hopes for my deceiving,
The Whisperer bids “Remember:
Rake not a dying ember.”
Gay hopes for my deceiving,
The Whisperer bids “Remember:
Rake not a dying ember.”
42
TO A. L.
If it be Fate's decree
That England's day is done,
What's left for you and me
To act beneath the sun?
Over the shining lea
Carols the careless lark,
But we are for the dark—
If it be Fate's decree.
That England's day is done,
What's left for you and me
To act beneath the sun?
Over the shining lea
Carols the careless lark,
But we are for the dark—
If it be Fate's decree.
Man's life, e'en at the best,
Is but a doubtful boon:
When life hath lost all zest
Ne'er comes the end too soon:
For us be dreamless rest!
Who'd suffer endless wrong,
Who'd shameful life prolong—
Life, a poor boon at best!
Is but a doubtful boon:
When life hath lost all zest
Ne'er comes the end too soon:
For us be dreamless rest!
Who'd suffer endless wrong,
Who'd shameful life prolong—
Life, a poor boon at best!
March, 1918.
43
PALLADAS
Naked to earth I came, naked 'neath earth descend:Why do I vainly toil since naked is the end?
A FRAGMENT
You saw him yesternight, you say,That long-dead hunchback in the cowl
Down Monk's Walk take his lonesome way;
You heard the screeching of the owl;
From Moat Farm came the watch dog's bay;
The waning moon looked on, ascowl . . .
44
MID-MAY, 1918
I
It shall not me dismay
That I've grown old and grey;
Nor tell-tale glass I chide
That will not wrinkles hide:
That I've grown old and grey;
Nor tell-tale glass I chide
That will not wrinkles hide:
The visionary gold
That in my heart I hold,
Doth far in worth outshine
All metal from the mine.
That in my heart I hold,
Doth far in worth outshine
All metal from the mine.
II
Of folios I've a store:—
Angelic Henry More,
Lov'd Fuller (wittiest sage)
And Burton's magic page:
Angelic Henry More,
Lov'd Fuller (wittiest sage)
And Burton's magic page:
There Pliny, Plutarch stand,
Here's Hakewill to my hand
And thy once far-famed screed,
Apocalyptic Mede.
Here's Hakewill to my hand
And thy once far-famed screed,
Apocalyptic Mede.
45
III
But till the winter eves
Bide there, old printed leaves!
Here's Field o'th' Cloth of Gold
With buttercups untold:
Bide there, old printed leaves!
Here's Field o'th' Cloth of Gold
With buttercups untold:
Tall chesnut-candles flare,
Hawthorn makes rich the air,
And tireless cuckoo—hark!—
Calleth from dawn to dark. . . .
Hawthorn makes rich the air,
And tireless cuckoo—hark!—
Calleth from dawn to dark. . . .
46
THE MIDDLE NIGHT
You've told how waking, in the middle nightYou turned your longing arms to left and right
In love's embrace; alas! she was not there
And you lay lonely in your dazed despair.
“THE DOG KNOWS”
—Tourgenev
There is no help: I shivering must goO'er dismal fields through the poached mire and snow.
“Then why submit to such a cheerless task?”
Yon pitiless imploring collie ask.
47
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
The honey-throated nightingale, our Musa the blue-eyedThis narrow tomb claimed suddenly where she doth voiceless bide:
For all her art and all her fame, stone-still she lies to-day:
And over thee, our Musa fair, light lie the dust for aye.
CALLIMACHUS
Their Crethis, with her prattle and her play,The girls of Samos often miss to-day:
Their loved workmate, with flow of merry speech,
Here sleeps the sleep that comes to all and each.
48
THE UNKNOWN
Old am I grown and grey,
No girl will look at me:
I hear them sigh and say:
“Alas, to think that we
May come like him to be!”
No girl will look at me:
I hear them sigh and say:
“Alas, to think that we
May come like him to be!”
Minxes, I scorn your pity:
There's one who loves me well,
A lady, beauteous, witty,
Who doth you all excel:
Some day her name I'll tell.
There's one who loves me well,
A lady, beauteous, witty,
Who doth you all excel:
Some day her name I'll tell.
49
THE RIVERS
“Belovèd Master, tell us how we may
To Happiness and Wisdom find the way?
How shall we get winged souls wherewith on high
Through the bright beams of heavenly truth to fly?”
To Happiness and Wisdom find the way?
How shall we get winged souls wherewith on high
Through the bright beams of heavenly truth to fly?”
“Go seek the Rivers Four of Paradise,
And bathe therein, and you'll grow good and wise.”
And bathe therein, and you'll grow good and wise.”
“The Rivers Four! fain would we learn from thee
What names they bear and what their virtues be?”
What names they bear and what their virtues be?”
“The first named Pison, signifies Foresight;
The second's Gihon, 'mong men Justice hight:
Hiddekel third, is Courage firm and fast,
Euphrates (Temperance) is the fourth and last.
Bathe, and your cleansèd souls mounting the sky,
Through sun-bright beams of heavenly Truth shall fly.”
So Zoroaster taught, ages ago;
Nor better counsel I to-day can show.
The second's Gihon, 'mong men Justice hight:
Hiddekel third, is Courage firm and fast,
Euphrates (Temperance) is the fourth and last.
Bathe, and your cleansèd souls mounting the sky,
Through sun-bright beams of heavenly Truth shall fly.”
So Zoroaster taught, ages ago;
Nor better counsel I to-day can show.
50
SENEX LOQUITUR
Right glad, in sooth, am IThat my time comes to die,
For fled is honest mirth
From our distempered earth;
Envy and greed and strife
Stain the clear well of life,
And each succeeding morrow
Brings a new tale of sorrow.
Mayhap for younger eyes
Hereafter will arise
An England fair and free
Laughing from sea to sea;
But for my fading sight
Cometh no vision bright.
So, tired of dust and noise,
From earth's vain gawds and toys
To my long home I'll pass
Beneath the quiet grass.
53
TO DOROTHEA
Dear little maid with laughing eyes,
Wistful, wilful, winsome, wise,
Fain would I lightly poetise
In stanzas cheery;
But days are short and nights are long,
And shrill winds pipe a restless song,
Complaining of the wide world's wrong
In accents dreary.
Wistful, wilful, winsome, wise,
Fain would I lightly poetise
In stanzas cheery;
But days are short and nights are long,
And shrill winds pipe a restless song,
Complaining of the wide world's wrong
In accents dreary.
Ah! welladay! the mist and rain
Drive rudely over hill and plain;
December hurries up amain
With drum and tabor;
But blown to left and blown to right
Scared birds that cannot keep their flight
Drop, baffled and outwearied quite
By battling labour.
Drive rudely over hill and plain;
December hurries up amain
With drum and tabor;
But blown to left and blown to right
Scared birds that cannot keep their flight
Drop, baffled and outwearied quite
By battling labour.
We cannot speed the blust'ring hours,
Or quell the angry Winter's powers,
Or bring the sunshine and the flowers
We love so dearly;
But we can sing and we can play,
And we can make the dullest day
As merry as the lark in May
That carols clearly.
Or quell the angry Winter's powers,
Or bring the sunshine and the flowers
We love so dearly;
But we can sing and we can play,
And we can make the dullest day
As merry as the lark in May
That carols clearly.
54
Sweet baby mine with hair of gold,
List to a song was sung of old,
A story of Pigwiggen bold
On earwig prancing;
Of Oberon with threat'ning mien,
And gamesome Puck, and Mab the Queen,
And lightfoot elves by moonlight seen
On greensward dancing.
List to a song was sung of old,
A story of Pigwiggen bold
On earwig prancing;
Of Oberon with threat'ning mien,
And gamesome Puck, and Mab the Queen,
And lightfoot elves by moonlight seen
On greensward dancing.
And you must love the singer well
Who knew such dainty tales to tell;
'Faith, Michael Drayton bears the bell
For numbers airy.
The garden-ways are blank and bare;
Come from the window, draw the chair
Nearer the fire, and we'll repair
To Court of Fairy.
Who knew such dainty tales to tell;
'Faith, Michael Drayton bears the bell
For numbers airy.
The garden-ways are blank and bare;
Come from the window, draw the chair
Nearer the fire, and we'll repair
To Court of Fairy.
| Weeping-Cross and Other Rimes by A. H. Bullen | |