 | Poems at Home and Abroad |  |
31
POEMS OF THE MONTHS
33
The Seasons
A Song from the Grasmere Play.
Come, sweet April, whom all men praise,
Bring your daffodils up to the Raise,
Bid the delicate warbler trill,
Come with the cuckoo over the hill;
Sprinkle the birch with sprays of green,
Purple the copses all between,
Bend the rainbow and swell the brooks,
Fill the air with the sound of rooks,
Rubies lend for the larch to wear,
The lambs are bleating, and May is near.
Bring your daffodils up to the Raise,
Bid the delicate warbler trill,
Come with the cuckoo over the hill;
Sprinkle the birch with sprays of green,
Purple the copses all between,
Bend the rainbow and swell the brooks,
Fill the air with the sound of rooks,
Rubies lend for the larch to wear,
The lambs are bleating, and May is near.
August is here, and the speckled thrush
Sings no more in the lilac bush,
Lambs in the meadow cease to bleat,
The hills are dim with the noontide heat,
From all her hedges the rose is fled,
And only the harebell lifts her head,
But green are the new-mown vales with grass
As if the Spring were again to pass,
The children bring from the far-off fell
The rose-red heather the bee loves well.
Sings no more in the lilac bush,
Lambs in the meadow cease to bleat,
The hills are dim with the noontide heat,
From all her hedges the rose is fled,
And only the harebell lifts her head,
34
As if the Spring were again to pass,
The children bring from the far-off fell
The rose-red heather the bee loves well.
Comes October with breath more cold,
She breathes and the bracken turns to gold,
The cherry blushes as red as blood,
The rowan flames in the painted wood,
The larch-tree tresses are amber bright,
The birch is yellowing up on the height,
And over the valley and over the hill
A deep hush broods and the sheep are still,
But rainbow gossamers fill the air,
The old earth rests and the world is fair.
She breathes and the bracken turns to gold,
The cherry blushes as red as blood,
The rowan flames in the painted wood,
The larch-tree tresses are amber bright,
The birch is yellowing up on the height,
And over the valley and over the hill
A deep hush broods and the sheep are still,
But rainbow gossamers fill the air,
The old earth rests and the world is fair.
Now are the mountains winter-white,
Helvellyn shines in the clear moonlight;
The carollers sing and the Christmas bells
Send sweet messages up the fells;
The old folk meet for their Christmas cheer,
The young folk skate on the frozen mere;
But Spring is coming, the shy buds peep
And the snowdrop moves in her long, long sleep,
There is lemon light on the leafless larch,
And the wood grows purple to welcome March.
Helvellyn shines in the clear moonlight;
The carollers sing and the Christmas bells
Send sweet messages up the fells;
The old folk meet for their Christmas cheer,
The young folk skate on the frozen mere;
But Spring is coming, the shy buds peep
And the snowdrop moves in her long, long sleep,
There is lemon light on the leafless larch,
And the wood grows purple to welcome March.
35
Fair, how fair, are the changing days
That keep us happy beneath the Raise!
We who in honour of Oswald, king,
Our ‘bearings’ still to the old Church bring.
We who here in the silent time
Act our part and carol our rhyme;
Seasons change and our hair grows grey,
But merrily goes the Grasmere play,
And two things stay with us all the year,
Love of our valley—and heart of cheer!
That keep us happy beneath the Raise!
We who in honour of Oswald, king,
Our ‘bearings’ still to the old Church bring.
We who here in the silent time
Act our part and carol our rhyme;
Seasons change and our hair grows grey,
But merrily goes the Grasmere play,
And two things stay with us all the year,
Love of our valley—and heart of cheer!
36
A February Song
Now with tender pencilled cup,
And with triple wings of white,
Snowdrop-maidens flutter up,
Wakened from the winter's night.
And with triple wings of white,
Snowdrop-maidens flutter up,
Wakened from the winter's night.
Celandines are full of sun,
Daffodils in gardens shine,
And the sap begins to run
Thro' the tufted eglantine.
Daffodils in gardens shine,
And the sap begins to run
Thro' the tufted eglantine.
Now the birch with ruddier rind
Hears the tit call to his fellow;
February's gentle mind
Turns the happy larches yellow.
Hears the tit call to his fellow;
February's gentle mind
Turns the happy larches yellow.
Alders hang their purple flowers,
Hazels golden-tasselled gleam,
And the willow feels new power
Silver-studded by the stream.
Hazels golden-tasselled gleam,
And the willow feels new power
Silver-studded by the stream.
37
Now the lilac trees gainsay
Every hint of doubt and sorrow,
Hung with tears of rain to-day
They shall laugh in leaf to-morrow.
Every hint of doubt and sorrow,
Hung with tears of rain to-day
They shall laugh in leaf to-morrow.
38
A Spring Song at the Lakes
From o'er the winter-rusted fell,
From out the valleys purple-blue,
There comes the Queen we love so well
To her appointment true.
From out the valleys purple-blue,
There comes the Queen we love so well
To her appointment true.
Not yet the music of her march
Has filled the garden-grove with song,
But rosy birch and yellow larch
Have felt her pass along.
Has filled the garden-grove with song,
But rosy birch and yellow larch
Have felt her pass along.
She comes in mossy kirtle drest,
The first faint daisies in her hand,
The snowdrop glitters at her breast,
She bears an osier wand.
The first faint daisies in her hand,
The snowdrop glitters at her breast,
She bears an osier wand.
But neither moss nor flowerets fair
Avail to give us heart of grace,
The sun shines golden in her hair,
And triumphs in her face.
Avail to give us heart of grace,
The sun shines golden in her hair,
And triumphs in her face.
39
March—Summer
There is no day in all the year
To weary mortals given,
When God's sweet mercy seems so near
And earth so sure of Heaven,
To weary mortals given,
When God's sweet mercy seems so near
And earth so sure of Heaven,
As when, in middle March, we wake
To find Spring's promise true,
And summer falls, on lawn and lake,
Full-made from out the blue.
To find Spring's promise true,
And summer falls, on lawn and lake,
Full-made from out the blue.
But yester-eve Helvellyn lay
Beneath a shroud of snow;
Helvellyn, dappled white to-day,
His tawny skin doth show.
Beneath a shroud of snow;
Helvellyn, dappled white to-day,
His tawny skin doth show.
No wreath of winter now is seen
On Grisedale's lilac ledge,
The Derwent-vale regains its green
And purple grows the hedge.
On Grisedale's lilac ledge,
The Derwent-vale regains its green
And purple grows the hedge.
40
The trout are leaping in the pool,
The rooks are calling loud,
The little lad scarce gets to school
So thick the daisies crowd.
The rooks are calling loud,
The little lad scarce gets to school
So thick the daisies crowd.
The daffodil re-makes his spear,
And laughs the celandine,
While, floating far, and glinting near
The spider shoots his line.
And laughs the celandine,
While, floating far, and glinting near
The spider shoots his line.
Now starry-wide the crocuses
Are flaming in the grass,
And, gathering gold, the happy bees
Make music as we pass.
Are flaming in the grass,
And, gathering gold, the happy bees
Make music as we pass.
Lambs bleat, and either side the lane
New voices fill the air,
The cuckoo soon will come again,
The thrush sings everywhere.
New voices fill the air,
The cuckoo soon will come again,
The thrush sings everywhere.
The fleecy charges of the dale
Look, yearning to the heights,
Forth from the crag the ravens sail,
His love the buzzard plights.
Look, yearning to the heights,
Forth from the crag the ravens sail,
His love the buzzard plights.
The frolic wind, from out the south,
Sets hazel flowers asway,
Kisses the yew with merry mouth,
And blows its dust away.
Sets hazel flowers asway,
Kisses the yew with merry mouth,
And blows its dust away.
41
All amber-tinted, lo! the larch
Is gleaming to the sun,
The birches, at the call of March,
Have felt the red blood run.
Is gleaming to the sun,
The birches, at the call of March,
Have felt the red blood run.
And now the golden-hearted west
Scores Wanthwaite Brow with shade,
And, lingering high on Latrigg's breast,
The day is loth to fade.
Scores Wanthwaite Brow with shade,
And, lingering high on Latrigg's breast,
The day is loth to fade.
But ere the blackbird cease from song
And robin ends his hymn,
The leaders of the starry throng
From out the sunset swim.
And robin ends his hymn,
The leaders of the starry throng
From out the sunset swim.
Jove's planet burns in crystal air,
The dog-star twinkles bright,
The summer day of March was fair,
But fairer still the night.
The dog-star twinkles bright,
The summer day of March was fair,
But fairer still the night.
42
April Showers
Came April, and beneath her feet the cloud
Broke into song upon our silent hills;
The primrose woke, and thirsty daffodils
Tossed up their golden cups, a merry crowd:
Then visibly beneath his cold grey shroud
Helvellyn moved to hear the cuckoo-thrills
Make echo down the valley; danced the rills,
The Greta sounded glad, Lodore was loud.
Broke into song upon our silent hills;
The primrose woke, and thirsty daffodils
Tossed up their golden cups, a merry crowd:
Then visibly beneath his cold grey shroud
Helvellyn moved to hear the cuckoo-thrills
Make echo down the valley; danced the rills,
The Greta sounded glad, Lodore was loud.
The white lambs gambolled thro' the sunlit grass,
With jewels of the sloe the hedge was pearled,
And golden shone the coltsfoot in the lane;
No foot, no heart, but did the lightlier pass,
For April tears had wrought another world
Wherein was life and laughter after pain.
With jewels of the sloe the hedge was pearled,
And golden shone the coltsfoot in the lane;
No foot, no heart, but did the lightlier pass,
For April tears had wrought another world
Wherein was life and laughter after pain.
43
A Rainless April
Come, April, come with gift of smile and tears,
Not with thine eyes unable thus to weep,—
Hast thou no store of sorrow from the deep
To loose and laugh through, as in former years?
Come, let Lodore make music for our ears,
And rouse Helvellyn from his winter sleep,
Hang rainbow glories from the sunny steep,
And shroud at night with dew the glittering spheres.
Not with thine eyes unable thus to weep,—
Hast thou no store of sorrow from the deep
To loose and laugh through, as in former years?
Come, let Lodore make music for our ears,
And rouse Helvellyn from his winter sleep,
Hang rainbow glories from the sunny steep,
And shroud at night with dew the glittering spheres.
For now the mountain faces, faint and pale
For lack of thy revivyfying hand,
Swoon on, beyond their time, expressionless.
And now the flocks are milkless in the dale,
The cuckoo calls not, and the larches stand
Without a heart to don their jewelled dress.
For lack of thy revivyfying hand,
Swoon on, beyond their time, expressionless.
And now the flocks are milkless in the dale,
The cuckoo calls not, and the larches stand
Without a heart to don their jewelled dress.
44
The First Swallow
I heard the wheat-ear singing in the dale,
I saw the ouzel curtsey to the sun,
And cried, ‘The days of winter sure are done,
The spring upon the mountains doth prevail,
Soon shall the cuckoo come to tell her tale.’
E'en as I spake where Calder's ripples run
To seek the shining Solway, there came one
Songless but sweeter than the nightingale.
I saw the ouzel curtsey to the sun,
And cried, ‘The days of winter sure are done,
The spring upon the mountains doth prevail,
Soon shall the cuckoo come to tell her tale.’
E'en as I spake where Calder's ripples run
To seek the shining Solway, there came one
Songless but sweeter than the nightingale.
From silent wastes and those dumb Memphian hills
Where dead men slumber in Sakkarah's dunes,
He came, he could not speak our English tongue,
But as he flashed above the daffodils
On bluest April air he wrote in runes
That Love was near, and Life again was young.
Where dead men slumber in Sakkarah's dunes,
He came, he could not speak our English tongue,
But as he flashed above the daffodils
On bluest April air he wrote in runes
That Love was near, and Life again was young.
45
Foxgloves at Brandelhow
Now lingers long the gold within the west,
Now twilit daisies shimmer silver-clear
Pale as the moon upon the dewy mere
Where lilies sleep; the fern-clad mountain breast
Green to the sky, by white flocks is possess't,
And elders bloom, and roses far and near
Dance in the hedgerows, whilst, at dawn, I hear
The thrush sing loud about her second nest.
Now twilit daisies shimmer silver-clear
Pale as the moon upon the dewy mere
Where lilies sleep; the fern-clad mountain breast
Green to the sky, by white flocks is possess't,
And elders bloom, and roses far and near
Dance in the hedgerows, whilst, at dawn, I hear
The thrush sing loud about her second nest.
But neither daisied fields nor milk-white sheep,
Nor rose, nor song of bird, nor elder flower,
Nor hint of heather on the mountain's brow
Can wield o'er wondering hearts such magic power
As those tall foxglove spires, whose sceptres keep
Imperial sway for June in Brandelhow.
Nor rose, nor song of bird, nor elder flower,
Nor hint of heather on the mountain's brow
Can wield o'er wondering hearts such magic power
As those tall foxglove spires, whose sceptres keep
Imperial sway for June in Brandelhow.
46
June Twilight at Eversley
Here all day long I sit and gaze
Where lupins grow and poppies blaze,
The Rhododendrons wall me round
With colour; rooks make lazy sound,
Scented with May the soft airs pass
To stir the shadows on the grass,
While from her golden yew-tree's dome
A thrush sings loud of love and home.
How sweet from this embowered lawn
To see the distant tide withdrawn,
To watch beyond the meadow lands
Shimmer of sun on lilac sands;
But sweeter is the scene to me
When back at sunset comes the sea,
When dark in western light the Scar
Stands up to wait the first white star,
And all dawn's mystery is made
To mix with evening long-delayed.
Where lupins grow and poppies blaze,
The Rhododendrons wall me round
With colour; rooks make lazy sound,
Scented with May the soft airs pass
To stir the shadows on the grass,
While from her golden yew-tree's dome
A thrush sings loud of love and home.
How sweet from this embowered lawn
To see the distant tide withdrawn,
To watch beyond the meadow lands
Shimmer of sun on lilac sands;
But sweeter is the scene to me
When back at sunset comes the sea,
When dark in western light the Scar
Stands up to wait the first white star,
And all dawn's mystery is made
To mix with evening long-delayed.
47
For then while cuckoo still awake
Calls, I can hear the incessant crake
—A conjuror, a ventriloquist—
Answer his own voice in the mist,
And watch the ranks of hedge and tree
Go marching to the twilit sea
Beneath their banners plumy-bright
Wove from the vapoury dews of night,
While Whitbarrow in purple stands
Above the Kent's grey level lands,
And still out north the Langdales lie
Clear against lucent silver sky,
For here in June when stars are seen
Not ever wholly fades the green,
Still do the lupins whitely show
And still the scarlet poppies glow,
Till Eversley's high lifted lawn
Is glad again with song and dawn.
Calls, I can hear the incessant crake
—A conjuror, a ventriloquist—
Answer his own voice in the mist,
And watch the ranks of hedge and tree
Go marching to the twilit sea
Beneath their banners plumy-bright
Wove from the vapoury dews of night,
While Whitbarrow in purple stands
Above the Kent's grey level lands,
And still out north the Langdales lie
Clear against lucent silver sky,
For here in June when stars are seen
Not ever wholly fades the green,
Still do the lupins whitely show
And still the scarlet poppies glow,
Till Eversley's high lifted lawn
Is glad again with song and dawn.
48
July at the Lakes
Now has come the month of roses,
Children fill their hands with posies;
All the garden plots are fair,
Honeysuckle scents the air;
Meadow-sweet beside the way
Mingles with the breath of hay,
Rosy loosestrife decks the sedges,
Purple vetch is in the hedges;
Now the butter-wort gives place
To the sundew's jewelled grace;
Now we gather on the fell
Cotton-grass and asphodel;
Bees make music in the limes,
Harebells ring their dainty chimes,
Chimes that only can be heard
When July has hushed the bird.
Children fill their hands with posies;
All the garden plots are fair,
Honeysuckle scents the air;
Meadow-sweet beside the way
Mingles with the breath of hay,
Rosy loosestrife decks the sedges,
Purple vetch is in the hedges;
Now the butter-wort gives place
To the sundew's jewelled grace;
Now we gather on the fell
Cotton-grass and asphodel;
Bees make music in the limes,
Harebells ring their dainty chimes,
Chimes that only can be heard
When July has hushed the bird.
Underneath the sycamore
Shepherds count their fleecy store,
Neighbours come from far and near,
Neighbour-like the flock to shear.
Here the urchin fresh from school
Helps to load the clipping-stool,
Holds the tie for legs that kick,
Hands the tarry ‘smitting’-stick.
Very grave the grey-beards seem
Tho' the bright shears click and gleam,
And the girls with laughter soft
Toss the fleeces to the loft,
While the little children run
To and fro in ceaseless fun.
Shepherds count their fleecy store,
49
Neighbour-like the flock to shear.
Here the urchin fresh from school
Helps to load the clipping-stool,
Holds the tie for legs that kick,
Hands the tarry ‘smitting’-stick.
Very grave the grey-beards seem
Tho' the bright shears click and gleam,
And the girls with laughter soft
Toss the fleeces to the loft,
While the little children run
To and fro in ceaseless fun.
Bark of dogs is in our ears,
And beneath the magic shears
Lo! the creature dumb from fright
Turns from tawny into white.
Then, at last set free, the sheep
From the clipping stool will leap,
While the lambs with plaintive cries
Greet their mother's new surprise,
And the dogs as wise as men
Push their charge from pen to pen.
And beneath the magic shears
Lo! the creature dumb from fright
Turns from tawny into white.
Then, at last set free, the sheep
From the clipping stool will leap,
While the lambs with plaintive cries
Greet their mother's new surprise,
And the dogs as wise as men
Push their charge from pen to pen.
Not alone the fellside farm
Feels the busy July's charm;
Lo! the mowers' fragrant yield
Floods with grey-green waves the field
Lasses with sun-bonnets gay
Laughing toss with hands the hay,
Where the crake at evenfall
From a minished world will call;
Strong of arm as they are blythe
Giants swing the giant scythe,
While the cart built up with skill
Leaves the dale and climbs the hill,
And the wildrose in the lane
Takes large toll from loaded wain.
Feels the busy July's charm;
Lo! the mowers' fragrant yield
Floods with grey-green waves the field
50
Laughing toss with hands the hay,
Where the crake at evenfall
From a minished world will call;
Strong of arm as they are blythe
Giants swing the giant scythe,
While the cart built up with skill
Leaves the dale and climbs the hill,
And the wildrose in the lane
Takes large toll from loaded wain.
Fair July! a second Spring
Seems its emerald gift to bring;
Green as April, bright as May,
Shine the meads just now so grey;
And while still upon the height
All the rosy ling is bright,
Dalesmen happy in possessing
Haytide's spoil and fleecy blessing,
Thank the month whose genial grace
Ere it pass gives breathing-space.
Seems its emerald gift to bring;
Green as April, bright as May,
Shine the meads just now so grey;
And while still upon the height
All the rosy ling is bright,
Dalesmen happy in possessing
Haytide's spoil and fleecy blessing,
Thank the month whose genial grace
Ere it pass gives breathing-space.
51
Heather on Lonscale
Aug. 18th.
God, for the gift of the thunder and fire I fear Thee,
—Gift of the thunder and fire that gave us our fells;
But for the gift of this wonder my love comes anear Thee,
Gift of the wonder of these multitudinous bells.
—Gift of the thunder and fire that gave us our fells;
But for the gift of this wonder my love comes anear Thee,
Gift of the wonder of these multitudinous bells.
Oh! the sweet scent and the dust of the honey around me—
Oh! the sweet sound of the brindled and golden-thighed bees,
Oh! the content which on Lonscale's round shoulder has found me.
Rest that has found me where body and soul are at ease.
Oh! the sweet sound of the brindled and golden-thighed bees,
Oh! the content which on Lonscale's round shoulder has found me.
Rest that has found me where body and soul are at ease.
52
Blue is the sky, a pavilion with clouds all afeather,
Green is the plain where the aftermath shimmers and shines,
But purple the million on million of blooms where the heather
Sweeps rose-ingrain from the blue to the belt of the pines.
Green is the plain where the aftermath shimmers and shines,
But purple the million on million of blooms where the heather
Sweeps rose-ingrain from the blue to the belt of the pines.
Here then on Lonscale I lie, and its garment in splendour
Grows as the sun sinks, and bees their soft music prolong,
Weariless workers: and I, how can I, any gratitude render,
Save but by rising from rest with new heart for such labour and song.
Grows as the sun sinks, and bees their soft music prolong,
Weariless workers: and I, how can I, any gratitude render,
Save but by rising from rest with new heart for such labour and song.
53
September at the Lakes
In the Vale of St John.
Green are the meads, as fresh from April showers,
The scarlet creeper by the cottage door
Gives now its ebon fruit, and on the moor
The bee can tell how fast the honey hours
Fail with their purple glory: still the flowers,
Harebell and knapweed, braver to endure
The frosty dew beside the silver Bure,
Bloom on, and shine the rowan's crimson bowers.
The scarlet creeper by the cottage door
Gives now its ebon fruit, and on the moor
The bee can tell how fast the honey hours
Fail with their purple glory: still the flowers,
Harebell and knapweed, braver to endure
The frosty dew beside the silver Bure,
Bloom on, and shine the rowan's crimson bowers.
Now smiles the plain, alternate green and gold,
The oats are housed, the farmer's hind may rest,
While as September's haze comes up the vale,
And gossamers float down and gleam and sail,
He feels grey Skiddaw's unlaborious breast,
And dreamy Derwent's arm his life enfold.
The oats are housed, the farmer's hind may rest,
While as September's haze comes up the vale,
And gossamers float down and gleam and sail,
He feels grey Skiddaw's unlaborious breast,
And dreamy Derwent's arm his life enfold.
54
The Tropaeolum Speciosum
When golden-poppy seeds begin to fall,
And lilies in their whiteness stand arrayed,
A flash of deep vermilion gleams to braid
For mid-July her fairest coronal.
First like a fly scarce scaped from out of thrall,
Its wings with dusky wrapping overlaid,
The shy buds cluster, then by sun's sweet aid
The fly becomes a trumpet on the wall
And lilies in their whiteness stand arrayed,
A flash of deep vermilion gleams to braid
For mid-July her fairest coronal.
First like a fly scarce scaped from out of thrall,
Its wings with dusky wrapping overlaid,
The shy buds cluster, then by sun's sweet aid
The fly becomes a trumpet on the wall
To blow forth summer's glory; poets hear
And dream of genii homes and magic flowers
To wreath the walls of some enchanter's hold,
While from a thousand horns of red and gold
From morn to noon and night is sounding clear
The music and the march of honeyed hours.
And dream of genii homes and magic flowers
To wreath the walls of some enchanter's hold,
While from a thousand horns of red and gold
From morn to noon and night is sounding clear
The music and the march of honeyed hours.
55
Skating on Derwentwater
In fairyland we revelled all the day,
Clear glass of gold lay Derwentwater's flood,
Far Glaramara mailed in silver stood.
And Skiddaw bright for ivory inlay
Shone purple clad with royalest array
To see our kingly sport. How leapt the blood!
As on from sunny bay to shadowy wood
We flashed above the mirrors steely grey.
Clear glass of gold lay Derwentwater's flood,
Far Glaramara mailed in silver stood.
And Skiddaw bright for ivory inlay
Shone purple clad with royalest array
To see our kingly sport. How leapt the blood!
As on from sunny bay to shadowy wood
We flashed above the mirrors steely grey.
But when the sun o'er Newlands sank to rest
Enchantment in the valley seemed to grow,
There, while the snows were flushed on fell and moor
Loud rang the skates upon a lilac floor,
And burning upward thro' the lake's dark breast
Fire gleamed with unimaginable glow.
Enchantment in the valley seemed to grow,
There, while the snows were flushed on fell and moor
Loud rang the skates upon a lilac floor,
And burning upward thro' the lake's dark breast
Fire gleamed with unimaginable glow.
56
Christmas
There was no room when first the Christ-child came
There is no room to-day in halls of state
Where, in the wrangling clamour of debate,
Professing love, men slay love in Love's name;
No room where commerce plies the gambler's game,
Nor where the gilded comfort of the great
Mocks its own sadness, nor where sophists prate
And the new learning puts the Cross to shame.
There is no room to-day in halls of state
Where, in the wrangling clamour of debate,
Professing love, men slay love in Love's name;
No room where commerce plies the gambler's game,
Nor where the gilded comfort of the great
Mocks its own sadness, nor where sophists prate
And the new learning puts the Cross to shame.
But in the simple hearts of labouring men,
Untouched by pride, by this world unbeguiled,
Who, knowing little, do that little well,
Still is there room, as once on Bethlehem's fell
The watch who kept the wolf-pack from the pen
Gave wondering welcome to the Christmas Child.
Untouched by pride, by this world unbeguiled,
Who, knowing little, do that little well,
Still is there room, as once on Bethlehem's fell
The watch who kept the wolf-pack from the pen
Gave wondering welcome to the Christmas Child.
57
The Keswick Old Folks' Dinner
Once more, from hall and cottage home, we meet
About the well-spread hospitable board;
Our foreheads are a little deeper scored,
A little slowlier move our aged feet;
But still our hearts are young enough to beat
With Christmas cheer, and on our heads is poured
The peace and loving-kindness of the Lord,
Who bade us think of Him the whiles we eat.
About the well-spread hospitable board;
Our foreheads are a little deeper scored,
A little slowlier move our aged feet;
But still our hearts are young enough to beat
With Christmas cheer, and on our heads is poured
The peace and loving-kindness of the Lord,
Who bade us think of Him the whiles we eat.
Oh, Thou great Saviour, who of old wert known
In breaking of the bread, be here to-day,
And if from out the grave some cannot come
To claim our greetings and to give their own,
Let their loved forms and faces with us stay
Till all are welcomed to their heavenly home.
In breaking of the bread, be here to-day,
And if from out the grave some cannot come
To claim our greetings and to give their own,
Let their loved forms and faces with us stay
Till all are welcomed to their heavenly home.
58
A Crosthwaite Belfry Song
January 1st, 1906.
Cheery Crosthwaite ringers, climb your belfry stair,
Set your carol-singers carolling in air;
Loud mouth and soft mouth,
Low mouth, aloft mouth,
Let the eight bell voices
Say the vale rejoices
That another year has gone—has gone with all its care.
Set your carol-singers carolling in air;
Loud mouth and soft mouth,
Low mouth, aloft mouth,
Let the eight bell voices
Say the vale rejoices
That another year has gone—has gone with all its care.
Set your ropes a-dancing at your captain's call,
Let the shadows glancing follow up the wall.
‘Single!’ cry, ‘Bob!’ shout,
In and out dodge about,
Till the vale rejoices
That the eight bell voices
Tell a happy glad New Year has come for one and all.
Let the shadows glancing follow up the wall.
‘Single!’ cry, ‘Bob!’ shout,
In and out dodge about,
Till the vale rejoices
That the eight bell voices
Tell a happy glad New Year has come for one and all.
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