Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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The Poor Man's Heritage.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
The Poor Man's Heritage.
The bright blue zenith's o'er us,
The broad world's underneath,
God's flowers bloom all around us,
The wild fruit's for our teeth.
These clouds are angel pageants,
This snow's our wonder-sight;
For us the combinations
Of Morn, and Eve, and Night.
The broad world's underneath,
God's flowers bloom all around us,
The wild fruit's for our teeth.
These clouds are angel pageants,
This snow's our wonder-sight;
For us the combinations
Of Morn, and Eve, and Night.
For us the Ocean's splendour,
For us Night buds with stars,
The Moon, that great Archangel,
The dark with glory bars.
The sunbeams leap to gladden
Us poor men at the plough;
For us the dewdrop's scented
On every blossom-bough.
For us Night buds with stars,
The Moon, that great Archangel,
The dark with glory bars.
The sunbeams leap to gladden
Us poor men at the plough;
For us the dewdrop's scented
On every blossom-bough.
For us the south wind's odours
(The rich can buy perfume);
Each forest has a chamber,
And every cave a room.
The rich hire wanton singers;
But every covert here
Is full of small musicians,
Our heart and sense to cheer.
(The rich can buy perfume);
Each forest has a chamber,
And every cave a room.
The rich hire wanton singers;
But every covert here
Is full of small musicians,
Our heart and sense to cheer.
The rich hire wanton singers,
For us the wild deer bound,
Their every hoof strikes music
From out the hollow ground.
The breeze blows soft to cool us,
And fans our heated brow,
As tired we rest between the tilts
Of our keen-flashing plough.
For us the wild deer bound,
Their every hoof strikes music
From out the hollow ground.
The breeze blows soft to cool us,
And fans our heated brow,
As tired we rest between the tilts
Of our keen-flashing plough.
205
Content comes not with riches,
It needs no golden dish,—
Suffice the wooden platter,
The loaf, the fresh-caught fish;
It needs no wine of Xeres,
But gaily quaffs the brook;
It loves no hall or daïs,
But the simple fireside nook.
It needs no golden dish,—
Suffice the wooden platter,
The loaf, the fresh-caught fish;
It needs no wine of Xeres,
But gaily quaffs the brook;
It loves no hall or daïs,
But the simple fireside nook.
The rivers run to meet us,
The sea's our restless slave,
Earth, all day long our mother,
At night prepares our grave.
The wild beasts are our vassals;
Air, fire, and light are ours
The poorest man among us
Is tended by the Hours.
The sea's our restless slave,
Earth, all day long our mother,
At night prepares our grave.
The wild beasts are our vassals;
Air, fire, and light are ours
The poorest man among us
Is tended by the Hours.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |