 | Praeterita (1863) |  |
36
AN EVENING BY THE FIRE.
When frogs pipe out in dripping dykes,
And autumn wolds are sallow:
When pigeons leave the stubble spikes,
And homeward oxen bellow:
And autumn wolds are sallow:
When pigeons leave the stubble spikes,
And homeward oxen bellow:
And singing under greying blue,
The ditcher and his fellow
Come drenched knee-deep from pasture-dew,
And foot-clogged from the fallow:
The ditcher and his fellow
Come drenched knee-deep from pasture-dew,
And foot-clogged from the fallow:
The black frost in the white frost's wake
May nip the marsh-buds yellow,
And kindling under branch and brake
The raying sunset mellow:
May nip the marsh-buds yellow,
And kindling under branch and brake
The raying sunset mellow:
37
Thro' branch and towards the trysting style
Where skims each mustering swallow;
As sits the lass to rest awhile,
Strolls up some sheepish fellow.
Where skims each mustering swallow;
As sits the lass to rest awhile,
Strolls up some sheepish fellow.
Our sun-track draws tonight as this
That floods the level fallow:
Yon maiden's cheek is ripe to kiss,
But ours are lank and hollow.
That floods the level fallow:
Yon maiden's cheek is ripe to kiss,
But ours are lank and hollow.
Our youth is gone, like this fair day,
Our rusty bones shall follow,
And rest they say, for heads of gray,
Comes on a churchyard pillow.
Our rusty bones shall follow,
And rest they say, for heads of gray,
Comes on a churchyard pillow.
So runs it well, so runs it ill,
What must be we must swallow.
We'll keep a merry heart up still,
Unsered, fresh, young, and callow.
What must be we must swallow.
We'll keep a merry heart up still,
Unsered, fresh, young, and callow.
38
Draw closer to the blaze, old friend,
Our ale is stiff and mellow.
We have not much more light to spend,
Two guttered ends of tallow.
Our ale is stiff and mellow.
We have not much more light to spend,
Two guttered ends of tallow.
But I will grasp thee by the hand,
What tho' thy cheek be yellow,
I'll swear that thro' the whole broad land
Ne'er walked a better fellow.
What tho' thy cheek be yellow,
I'll swear that thro' the whole broad land
Ne'er walked a better fellow.
| Praeterita (1863) | |