The Cambridge Book of Poetry for Children

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The Cambride,e Book � Poetg- for Children

COPYRIGHT, 1916 BY G. P PUTXAM'S so:-.s

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preface

IN compiling a selection of Poetry for Children, a conscientious Editor is bound to find himself confronted with limitations so numerous as to be almost disheartening. For he has to remember that his task is, not to provide simple examples of the whole range of English poetry, but to set up a wicket• gate giving attractive admission to that wide domain, with its woodland glades, its pasture and arable, its walled and scented gardens here and there, and so to its sunlit, and sometimes misty, mountain•tops-all to be more fully explored later by those who are tempted on by the first glimpse. And always he must be proclaiming to the small tourists that there is joy, light, and fresh air in that delectable country.

Briefly, I think that blank verse generally, and.the drama as a whole, may very well be left for readers of a nper age. Indeed, I iii

iy Preface

believe that those who can ignore the plays of Shakespeare and his fellow -Elizabethans till they are sixteen will be no losers in the long

run .

The bulk, too, of seventeenth and eighteenth century poetry, bending under its burden of classical form and crowded clas sical allusion, requires a completed educa tion and a wide rangeofreadingforits proper appreciation.

Much else also is barred. There are the questions of subject, of archaic language and thought, and of occasional expression, which will occur to everyone. Then there is dialect, and hereonehasto rememberthatthese poems are intended for use at the very time that a child is painfully acquiring a normal- often quite arbitrary - orthography. Is it fair to that child to hammer into him - perhaps literally that porridge is spelt porridge, and next minute to present it to him, in an official Reader, under the guise of parritch? I think not; and I have accordingly kept as far as possible to the normal, though at some loss of material.

Preface

In the output of those writers who have deliberately written for children, it is surpris ing how largely the subject of death is found to bulk. Dead fathers and mothers, dead brothers and sisters, dead uncles and aunts, dead puppies and kittens, dead birds, dead flowers, dead dolls a compiler of Obituary Verse for the delight of children could make a fine fat volume with little difficulty. I have turned off this mournful tap of tears as far as possible, preferring that children should read of the joy of life, rather than revel in senti mental thrills of imagined bereavement. There exists, moreover, any quantity of verse for children, which is merely verse and nothing more. It lacks the vital spark of heavenly flame, and is useless to a selector of Poetry. And then there is the whole corpus of verse- most of it of the present day which is written about children, and this has even more carefully to be avoided. When the time comes that we send our parents to school, it will prove very useful to the compilers oftheir primers.

Preface

All these restrictions have necessarily led to two results. First, that this collection is chiefly lyrical and that, after all, is no bad thing. Lyric verse may not be representative of the whole range of English poetry, but as an introduction to it, as a Wicket-gate, there is no better portal. The second result is, that it is but a small sheaf that these gleanings amount to; but for those children who frankly do not care for poetry it will be more than enough; and for those who love it and delight in it, no " selection could ever be sufficiently satisfying.

KENNETH

GRAHAME.

October, 1915..

NOTE

The Editor is indebted to the following authors and publishers for permission to reprint copyrighted poems: Mr. W. Graham Robertson and Mr. Norman Gale ; The Macmillan Co. for a poem by Amy Lowell ; Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co. for a poem by Walter Ramal and for a poem from Stevenson's Child's Garden of Verse ; Messrs . Chatto & Windus for an extract from Swinburne's Songs "before Sunrise, and for a poem from Walter Thornbury's Ballads and Songs ; Whittaker & Ray -Wiggin Co. and Funk & Wagnalls Co. for poems by Joaquin Miller; Mr. Elliott Stock for an extract from a play by H. N. Maugham ; Mr. John Lane for poems by Rands, Graham Robertson , and for two extracts from John Davidson's Fleet Street Eclogues ; the Editor of A Sailor's Garland, and Messrs. Methuen , its pub lishers ; to Messrs. Small, Maynard & Co. , Inc., for the poem by Richard Hovey ; to the Editor of the Pall Mall Magazine for the poem by Theodore Roberts ; to Houghton Mifflin Co. for the poems by Longfellow , and to Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons for the poems by Eugene Field .

RHYMES AND JINGLES

Merry are the Bells Safe in Bed Jenny Wren . Curly Locks Pussy -Cat Mew Draw a Pail of Water I Saw a Ship A - Sailing The Nut- Tree My Maid Mary The Wind and the Fisherman . Blow, Wind, Blow . All Busy Winter has Come Poor Robin I Have a Little Sister In Marble Walls

FAMILIAR OBJECTS

Kitty : How to Treat Her

Kitty : What She Thinks of Herself W. B. Rands

The Sea Shell Amy Lowell

COUNTRY BOYS ' SONGS

14 15 15

The Cuckoo . The Bird -Scarer's Song Cradle Song . Good Night !. 17 A. & J. Taylor 17 .

For Those a Little Older

A BUNCH OF LENT LILIES 21 .

Daffodils To Daffodils Daffodils

W. Shakespeare R. Herrick . W. Wordsworth 21 23

SEASONS AND

The Months . Sara Coleridge The Wind in a Frolic William Howitt

The Four Sweet Months . R. Herrick . Glad Day W. G. Robertson

Buttercups and Daisies Mary Howitt The Merry Month of March W. Wordsworth

What the Birds Say S. T. Coleridge Spring's Procession . Sydney Dobell The Call of the Woods W. Shakespeare

A Prescription for a Spring Morning John Davidson

The Country Faith Norman Gale The Butterfly's Ball W. Roscoe

. 32 33 . . 35 36 37 38

Contents xi

TASTES AND PREFERENCES

A Wish . Wishing. Bunches of Grapes Contentment .

Samuel Rogers W. Allingham Walter Ramal Eugene Field

TOYS AND PLAY, IN - DOORS AND OUT

The Land of Story -Books Sand Castles . Ring o ' Roses

DREAM -LAND

Wynken , Blynken , and Nod The Drummer-Boy and the Shepherdess

The Land of Dreams Sweet and Low Cradle Song Mother and I

R. L. Stevenson W. G. Robertson W. G. Robertson

PAGE 42

43 44 . 45

47 48 50

Eugene Field 51 .

W. B. Rands William Blake Lord Tennyson Sir Walter Scott Eugene Field

FAIRY - LAND

The Fairies Shakespeare's Fairies The Lavender Beds Farewell to the Fairies Death of Oberon Kilmeny

TWO SONGS

W. Allingham W. Shakespeare W. B. Rands Richard Corbet G. W. Thornbury James Hogg

.

53 54 55 56 . 57

59 61 65 .

67 . 69 70

A Boy's Song . A Girl's Song. James Hogg Thomas Moore 76 77

(tontents

PUR AND FEATHER

PAG■

WilliamBlake 79 H. N. Maugham . 8o WillimBlake 8o WilliamBlau: 81 J. Keats 82 W.Allingham 83 W.1J. Rands 85 A. & J:Taylor 87 JmesHou 87

CHRISTMAS

Recollections of Early Childhood To Autumn

Ode to the West Wind To a Skylark . The Moon -Goddess . Home - Thoughts from Abroad . Home- Thoughts from the Sea .

W. Wordsworth J. Keats P. B. Shelley P. B. Shelley Ben Jonson R. Browning R. Browning

GREEN SEAS AND SAILOR MEN

1. The Call of the Sea

Ye Mariners of England

The Secret of the Sea A Dutch Picture Sea Memories. The Sea Gypsy

.

The Greenwich Pensioner The Press-Gang A Sea Dirge .

2. Its Lawless Joys

The Old Buccaneer C. Kingsley

The Salcombe Seaman's Flaunt to the Proud Pirate . The Smuggler

The Maid

PAGE . . .

. . .

142 147 149 154 159 160 162

T. Campbell . 163 H. W. Longfellow . 165 H. W. Longfellow . 167 H. W. Longfellow . 170 Richard Hovey 172 172 174 W. Shakespeare 175 176 .

3 . 179 182

ARMS AND THE MAN

Theodore Roberts . 183

The Eve of Waterloo

The Glory that was Greece

Battle Hymn of the American Republic .

Lord Byron 185

Lord Byron 190 .

Julia Ward Howe. 195

THE OTHER SIDE OF IT

STORY-POEMS

TWO HOME-COMINGS

WHEN KNIGHTS WERE BOLD

Hunting Song

PAGE

Sir Walter Scott 260

The Riding to the Tournament . G. W. Thornbury . 261

VARIOUS .

A Red , Red Rose Blow, Bugle, Blow West and East Genseric Kubla Khan . Something to Remember . Ring Out, Wild Bells

Robert Burns Lord Tennyson Matthew Arnold Owen Meredith S. T. Coleridge R. Browning Lord Tennyson

.

271 272 273 274 276 . . 279 280

INDEX OF AUTHORS 283 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 285

fr tbe 1Defl?Smallestd'nes

Rhymes and Jingles

We begin with some jingles and old rhymes; for rhymes and jingles must not be despised. They have rhyme, rhythm , melody, and joy ; and it is well for beginners to know that these are all elements of poetry, sothattheywillturntoitwithpleasantexpectation.

Merry Are the Bells

Merryarethebells,andmerrywould theyring, Merrywas myself, and merry could I sing; Withamerryding-dong,happy, gay, and free, And a merry sing-song, happy let us be!

Waddle goes your gait, and hollow are your hose; Noddlegoesyourpate,and purpleisyournose; Merry isyour sing-song,happy,gay, and free; Withamerryding-dong, happylet usbe!

Merryhavewe met, andmerryhavewebeen; Merrylet us part, and merrymeet again; Withourmerrysing-song,happy,gay,andfree, Withamerryding-dong, happyletusbe!

Rhymes and Jingles

Safe in Bed

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, Bless the bed that I lie on ! Four corners to my bed, Five angels there lie spread; Two at my head, Two at my feet, One at my heart, my soul to keep.

Jenny Wren

Jenny Wren fell sick; Upon a merry time, In came Robin Redbreast, And brought her sops of wine.

Eat well ofthe sop, Jenny, Drink well of the wine; Thank you Robin kindly, You shall be mine.

Jenny she got well, And stood upon herfeet, And told Robin plainly She loved him not a bit.

Rhymes and Jingles

Robin, being angry, Hopp'd on a twig, Saying, Out upon you, Fye upon you, Bold-faced jig!

CurlyLocks

Curly locks! Curly locks! Wilt thou be mine ? Thou shalt not wash dishes Nor yet feed the swine. But sit on a cushion And sew a fine seam, And feed upon strawberries Sugar and cream .

Pussy-Cat Mew

Pussy-cat Mew jumped over a coal, And in her best petticoat burnt a great hole. Pussy-cat Mew shall have no more milk Till she has mended her gown of silk.

"Rhymes and Fingles

Drawa PailofWater

Draw a pail ofwater For my Lady's daughter. Father's a King, Mother's a Queen, My twolittle sisters are dressed in green, Stamping marigolds and parsley.

I Saw a Ship A -Sailing

I saw a ship a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea; And it was full of pretty things For baby and for me.

There were sweetmeats in the cabin, And apples in the hold; The sails were made of silk, And the masts were made of gold.

The four-and-twenty sailors 1. That stood between the decks, Were four-and-twenty white mice, With chains about their necks .

Rhymes and Jingles

The captain was a duck, With a packet on his back; And when the ship began to move, The captain cried, Quack, quack !

The Nut- Tree

I had a little nut-tree, Nothing would it bear But a silver nutmeg And a golden pear; The King ofSpain's daughter She came to see me, And all because of my little nut-tree .

I skipped over water, I danced over sea, And all the birds in the air couldn't catch me.

MyMaidMary

My maid Mary she minds the dairy, While I go a-hoeing and a-mowing each morn ; Gaily run the reel and the little spinning wheel, Whilst I am singing and mowing my corn.

"Rhymes and Jingles

The Wind and the Fisherman

When the wind is in the East, 'Tis neither good for man or beast; When the wind is in the North, The skilful fisher goes not forth; When the wind is in the South, It blows the bait in the fish's mouth; When the wind is in the West, Then 'tis at the very best. Blow, Wind, Blow

Blow, wind, blow ! and go, mill, go! That the miller may grind his corn; That the baker may take it and into rolls make it, And send us some hot in the morn .

All Busy

The cock's on the house-top, Blowing his horn; The bull's in the barn, A -threshing ofcorn;

Rhymes and Jingles

The maids in the meadows Are making the hay, The ducks in the river Are swimming away.

Winter has Come

Cold and raw The north wind doth blow Bleak in the morning early; All the hills are covered with snow , And winter's now come fairly.

Poor Robin

The north wind doth blow, And we shall have snow , AndwhatwillpoorRobindothen,poorthing? He'll sit in the barn, And keep himselfwarm, And hide his head under his wing, poor thing!

Rhymes and Jingles

I Have a Little Sister

I have a little sister, they call her Peep, Peep, She wades the waters, deep, deep, deep; She climbs the mountains, high, high, high; Poor little creature, she has but one eye. (A star.)

In Marble Walls

In marble walls as white as milk, Lined with a skin as soft as silk, Within a fountain crystal-clear, A golden apple doth appear. No doors there are to this stronghold, Yet thieves break in and steal the gold. (An egg.)

Familiar Objects

Here are some poems about things with which we are all quitefamiliar: the Moon and the Stars that we see through our bedroom window : Pussy purring on the hearthrug, the spotted shell on the mantelpiece.

The Moon

O, look at the moon! She is shining up there; O mother, she looks Like a lamp in the air.

Last week she was smaller, And shaped like a bow; But now she's grown bigger, And round as an O.

Pretty moon, pretty moon, How you shine on the door, And make it all bright On my nursery floor!

Eliza Lee follen

You shine on my playthings, And show me their place, And I love to look up

At your pretty bright face.

And there is a star Close by you, and maybe That small twinkling star Is your little baby.

The Star

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveller in the dark Thanks yourtiny spark; you for

Ann and Jane Taylor

He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so .

In the dark blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep, For you never shut your eye Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveller in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

Kitty

Once there was a little kitty Whiter than snow ; In a barn she used to frolic, Long time ago.

In the barn a little mousie Ran to and fro; For she heard the kitty coming, Long time ago.

Mrs. E. Prentiss

Two eyes had little kitty, Black as a sloe; And they spied the little mousie, Longtime ago.

Four paws hadlittle kitty, Paws soft as dough, And they caught the little mousie, Longtime ago.

Nine teeth had little kitty, All in a row ; And theybit thelittle mousie, Long time ago.

When the teeth bit little mousie, Little mouse cried Oh ! But she got away from kitty, Long time ago.

Kitty: How to Treat Her

I like little Pussy, her coat is so warm , And if I don't hurt her she'll do me no harm ; So I'll not pull her tail, nor drive her away, But Pussy and I very gently will play.

1lUl. :13. 'Ranbs

Kitty: What She Thinks of Herself

I am the Cat of Cats. I am The everlasting cat!

Cunning, and old, and sleek as jam, The everlasting cat!

I hunt the vermin in the nightThe everlasting cat!

For I see best without the lightThe everlasting cat!

w. B. RANDS. TheSeaShell

Sea Shell, Sea Shell, Sing me a song, 0 please! A song ofships and sailor-men, Ofparrots and tropical trees; Ofislands lost in the Spanish Main Which no man ever may see again, Offishes and corals under the waves, And sea-horses stabled in great green caves­

• Sea Shell, Sea Shell, Sing me a song, 0 please!

AMYLoWELL.

Country Boys' Songs

The Cuckoo

The cuckoo's a bonny bird, She sings as she flies; She brings us good tidings, And tells us no lies . She sucks little birds' eggs,, To make her voice clear, And never cries Cuckoo Till the spring ofthe year.

The Bird-Scarer's Song

We'veploughedourland,we'vesownourseed, We've made all neat and gay; Then take a bit and leave a bit, Away, birds, away!

Ann and Jane Taylor

Cradle Song

Sleep, baby, sleep, Our cottage vale is deep; The little lamb is on the green, With woolly fleece so soft and clean, Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep, Down where the woodbines creep; Be always like the lamb so mild, A kind and sweet and gentle child, Sleep, baby, sleep! Good Night!

Little baby, lay your head

On your pretty cradle-bed; Shut your eye-peeps, now the day And the light are gone away; All the clothes are tucked in tight; Little baby dear, good night.

Ann and Jane Taylor

Yes, my darling, well I know How the bitter wind doth blow; And the winter's snow and rain Patter on the window -pane: But they cannot come in here, To my little baby dear.

For the window shutteth fast, Till the stormy night is past; And the curtains warm are spread Round about her cradle -bed : So till morning shineth bright Little baby dear, good night!

ANN AND JANE TAYLOR .

for Those a Little Older

1

B !3uncb of 1ent 1lltes

Here three Poets treat the sameflower each from his own distinct and delightful point of view. To thefirst it appeals as the flower of courage, the brave early comer; to the second it is the early goer, the flower of a too SW'ift departure-though daffodils really bloom for a fairly long time, asflowersgo; the thirdisgrateful foranimperishablerecollection.

Daffodils

...Daffodils

That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.

SHAKESPEARE.

To Daffodils

Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the evensong;

Derrick you along.

And, having pray'd together, we Will go with We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay, As you, or anything. We die As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the summer's rain; Or as the pearls ofmorning's dew , Ne'er to be found again.

Daffodils

I wander'd lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, ofgolden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed-and gazed-but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

WILLIAMWORDSWORTH.

Seasons anb Ueatber

The Months

January brings the snow, Makes our feet and fingers glow.

February brings the rain, Thaws the frozen lake again.

March brings breezes loud and shrill, Stirs the dancing daffodil.

April brings the primrose sweet, Scatters daisies at our feet.

May brings flocks of pretty lambs, Skipping by their fleecy dams.

June brings tulips, lilies, roses, Fills the children's hands with posies.

Hot July brings cooling showers, Apricots and gillyflowers.

August brings the sheaves of corn, Then the harvest home is borne.

Sara <tolertbge

Warm September brings the fruit, Sportsmen then begin to shoot.

Fresh October brings the pheasant, Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

Dull November brings the blast, Then the leaves are whirling fast.

Chill December brings the sleet, Blazing fire and Christmas treat. SARA COLERIDGE.

The Wind in a Frolic

The wind one morning sprang up from sleep, Saying, "Now for a frolic! now for a leap! Now for a madcap galloping chase!

I'll make a commotion in every place!"

So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, Creaking the signs and scattering down Shutters; and whisking, with merciless squalls, Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls. There never was heard a much lustier shout, As the apples and oranges trundled about;

William Howitt

And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes

For ever on watch, ran off each with a prize.

Then away to the field it went bl stering and humming, And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming. It plucked by their tails the grave matronly COWS, And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows, Till, offended at such a familiar salute, They allturned theirbacks, and stood sullenly mute .

So on itwent, caperingand playing its pranks; Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks; Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, Or the traveller grave on the king's high way.

It was not too nice to hustle the bags Ofthe beggar, and flutter his dirty rags; inice : particular.

'Twas so bold that it feared not to play its joke

With the doctor's wig, or the gentleman's cloak . Through theforest it roared, and cried gaily, Now, You sturdyold oaks, I'll make you bow ! And it made them bow without more ado, Or it cracked their great branches through andthrough.

Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm , Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm ; And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm .

There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps,

To see if their poultry were free from mis haps; The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd;

William bowitt

There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone. But the wind had passed on, and had met in a lane With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain; For it tossed him and twirled him, then passed, and he stood With his hat in a pool and his shoe in the mud. But away went the wind in its holiday glee, And now it was far on the billowy sea, And the lordly ships felt its staggering blow, And the little boats darted to and fro . But lo! it was night, and it sank to rest, Onthesea-bird's rockinthegleamingWest, Laughing to think, in its fearful fun, How little of mischief it had done .

WILLIAM HOWITT.

Robert berrick

The Four Sweet Months

First, April, she with mellow showers Opens the way for early flowers; Then after her comes smiling May, In a more sweet and rich array; Next enters June, and brings us more Gems than those two that went before: Then, lastly, July comes and she More wealth brings in than all those three.

ROBERT HERRICK .

Glad Day Here's another day, dear, Here's the sun again Peeping in his pleasant way Through the window pane. Rise and let him in, dear, Hail him hip hurray! Now the fun will all begin. Here's another day! Down the coppice path, dear, Through the dewy glade, (When the Morning took her bath What a splash she made!)

ww. Graham Robertson

Up the wet wood-way, dear, Under drippinggreen Run to meet another day, Brightest ever seen.

Mushrooms in the field, dear, Show their silver gleam . What a dainty crop they yield Firm as clouted cream , Cool as balls of snow , dear, Sweet and fresh and round ! Ere the early dew can go We must clear the ground.

Such a lot to do, dear, Such a lot to see !

How we ever can get through Fairly puzzles me. Hurry up and out, dear, Then - away! away!

In and out and round about, Here's another day!

W. GRAHAM ROBERTSON .

ma� bowttt

Buttercups and Daisies

Buttercups and daisies0 the pretty flowersI Coming ere the spring-time, To tell ofsunny hours. When the trees are leafless; When the fields are bare; Buttercups and daisies Spring up here and there.

Welcome, yellow buttercupsI Welcome, daisies whiteI Ye are in my spirit Vision'd, a delightl Coming ere the spring-time, Of sunny hours to tellSpeaking to our hearts of Him Who doeth all things well.

MARY HOWITT.

The Merry Month of March

The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing,

1llllorbswortb

The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter,

The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one!

Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill

On the top of the bare hill; The Plough-boy is whooping anon, anon. There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and goneI WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

What the Birds Say

Do you know what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, Thelinnetandthrushsay "I loveand I love!"

In the winter they're silent-the wind is so strong; What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing, and loving, all come back together. But the lark is so brimful ofgladness and love, The green fields belowhim, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings, and for ever sings he"I love my love, and my love loves meI "

S. T. COLERIDGE.

Spring's Procession

First came the primrose, On the bank high, Like a maiden looking forth From the window of a tower When the battle rolls below, So look'd she, And saw the storms go by.

Then came the wind-flower In the valley left behind, As a wounded maiden, pale With purple streaks of woe, When the battle has roll'd by Wanders to and fro, So tottered she, Dishevell'd in the wind.

Then came the daisies, On the first of May, Like a banner'd show's advance

While the crowd runs by the way, With ten thousand flowers about them they came trooping through the fields. As a happy people come, So came they, As a happy people come When the war has roll'd away, With dance and tabor, pipe and drum, And all make holiday.

Then came the cowslip, Like a dancer in the fair,

Sydney Dobell

She spread her little mat of green , And on it danced she . With a fillet bound about her brow , A fillet round her happy brow, A golden fillet round her brow, And rubies in her hair .

The Call of the Woods

Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live in the sun,

Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

SHAKESPEARE . A Prescriptionfor a Spring Morning

At early dawn through London you must go Until you come where long black hedgerows grow , With pink buds pearld, with here and there a tree, And gates and stiles; and watch good country folk; And scent the spicy smoke Of wither'd weeds that burn where gardens be; And in a ditch perhaps a primrose see. The rooks shall stalk the plough, larks mount the skies, Blackbirdsandspeckledthrushessingaloud, Hid in the warm white cloud Mantling the thorn, and far away shall rise The milky low ofcows and farm -yard cries.

From windy heavens the climbing sun shall shine, And February greet you like a maid In russet cloak array'd; And you shall take her for your mistress fine, And pluck a crocus for her valentine.

JOHN DAVIDSON .

The Country Faith

Here in the country's heart

Where the grass is green , Life is the same sweet life As it e'er hath been .

Trust in a God still lives, And the bell at morn

Floats with athought of God O er the rising corn.

God comes down in the rain, And the crop grows tall This is the country faith, And the best of all .

NORMAN GALE .

William Roscoe

The Butterfly's Ball

Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste

To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast; The Trumpeter, Gadfly, has summoned the crew , Andthe revels are nowonlywaiting foryou. So said little Robert, and pacing along, HismerryCompanionscameforth in athrong, AndonthesmoothGrassbythesideofaWood, Beneath a broadOak that for ages had stood, Saw the Children of Earth and the Tenants of Air

For an Evening's Amusement together repair. And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black, Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back . And there was the Gnat and the Dragon-fly too, With all their Relations, green, orange, and blue .

'Roscoe

And there came the Moth, with his plumage of down, And the Hornet in jacket ofyellow and brown; Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring, But they promised that evening to lay by their sting. And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole, •And brought to the feast his blind Brother, • the Mole, And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his shell, Camefromagreatdistance, thelengthofanell.

A Mushroom theirTable, and on it was laid A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made. The Viands were various, to each of their taste, And the Bee brought her honey to crown the Repast. . . Then close on his haunches, so solemn and wise, The Frog from a corner look'd up to the skies;

Wailliam 'Roscoe

And the Squirrel, well pleased such diversions to see, Mounted high overhead and look'd down from a tree .

Then out came the Spider, with finger so fine, To show his dexterity on the tight-line. From one branch to another his cobwebs he slung, Then quick as anarrowhedarted along. But just in the middle-oh! shocking to tell, From his rope, in an instant, poor Harlequin fell. Yet he touched not the ground, but with talons outspread, Hung suspended in air, at the end of a thread.

Then the Grasshopper came, with ajerk and a spring, Very long was his leg, though but short was hiswing; He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight, Then chirp'd his own praises the rest of the night.

11Ulllllam 'Roscoe 41

With step so majestic the Snail did advance, And promised the Gazers a Minuet to dance; But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his head, And went in his own little chamber to bed. Then as Evening gave way to the shadows of Night

Their Watchman, the Glowworm, came out with a light.

"Then home let us hasten, while yet we can see, For no Watchman is waiting for you and for me."

So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions return'd in a throng.

WILLIAM ROSCOE.

ltastes anb �references

A Wish

Minebeacotbesidethehill; Abee-hive'shumshallsoothemyear; A willowybrook, that turns a mill, Withmanyafallshalllingernear. Theswallowoftbeneathmythatch Shalltwitterfromherclay-builtnest; Oftshallthepilgrimliftthelatch Andsharemymeal,awelcomeguest.

Aroundmyiviedporchshallspring Eachfragrantflowerthatdrinksthedew; AndLucyatherwheelshallsing Inrussetgownandapronblue.

Thevillagechurchamongthetrees, Wherefirstourmarriagevowsweregiven, Withmerrypealsshallswellthebreeze, AndpointwithtaperspiretoHeaven.

SAMUEL ROGERS.

Wishing

Ring-ting! I wish I were a Primrose, A bright yellow Primrose blowing in the Spring! The stooping boughs above me, Thewandering bee to love me, The fern and moss to creep across, And the Elm-tree for our King!

Nay - stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree, A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay! Thewinds would set them dancing, The sun and moonshine glance in, The birds would house among the boughs, And sweetly sing!

0 no! I wish I were a Robin, A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go ; Through forest, field, or garden, And ask no leave or pardon, Till Winter comes with icy thumbs To ruffle up our wing!

Walter 'Ramal

Well tell! Where should I fly to, Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell? Before a daywas over, Home comes the rover, For Mother's kiss,-sweeter this Than any other thing!

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM .

Bunches of Grapes

Bunches of grapes, says Timothy; "Pomegranates pink, says Elaine; A junket of cream and a cranberry tart For me, says Jane.

Love-in-a-mist, says Timothy; Primroses pale, says Elaine; A nosegay of pinks and mignonette Forme," says Jane.

Chariots of gold, saysTimothy; Silvery wings, says Elaine; A bumpity ride in a waggon ofhay Forme, says Jane.

WALTER RAMAL .

Eugene field

Contentment

Once on a time an old red hen Went strutting round with pompous clucks, For she had little babies ten, A part ofwhich were tiny ducks. 'Tis very rare that hens, said she, Have baby ducks as well as chicks But I possess, as you can see, Of chickens four and ducklings six!"

A season later, this old hen Appeared, still cackling of her luck, For, though she boasted babies ten, Not one among them was a duck!

'Tis well, she murmured, brooding o'er The little chicks offleecy down, My babies now will stay ashore, And, consequently, cannot drown !

The following spring the old red hen Cluckedjust as proudly as ofyore But lo! her babes were ducklings ten, Instead of chickens as before !

eugene flelb

"'Tis better," said the old red hen, As she surveyed her waddling brood; "A little water now and then Will surely do my darlings good I"

But oh! alas, how very sad I When gentle spring rolled round again, The eggs eventuated bad, And childless was the old red hen I Yet patiently she bore her woe, And still she wore a cheerful air, And said : "'Tis best these things are so, For babies are a dreadful care!"

I half suspect that many men, And many, many women too, • Could learn a lesson from the hen

With plumage of vermilion hue. She ne'er presumed to take offence At any fate that might befall, But meekly bowed to ProvidenceShe was contented-that was all!

EUGENE FIELD.

Toys and play, Indoors and Out

The Land of Story-Books

At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything.

Now, with my little gun , I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back.

There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed.

These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink.

R.L.Stevenson

I see the others far away As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about.

So, when my nurse comes in for me, Home I return across the sea, And go to bed with backward looks At my dear land ofStory-books.

R. L. STEVENSON . Sand Castles

Build me a castle of sand Down by the sea. Here on the edge ofthe strand Build it for me.

How shall a foeman invade, Where may he land, While we can raise with our spade Castles of sand ?

Turrets upleap and aspire, Battlements rise Sweeping the sea with their fire, Storming the skies.

W. Brabam Robertson

Pile that a monarch might own, Mightily plann d!

I can't sit here on a throne, This is too grand.

Build me a cottage of sand Up on the hill; Snug in a cleft it must stand Sunny and still.

Plant it with ragwort and ling, Bramble and bine : Castles I'll leave to the King, This shall be mine .

Storm -clouds drive over the land, High flies the spray; Gone are our houses of sand, Vanished away!

Look at the damage you've done, Sea -wave and rain !

Nay, we but give you your fun Over again.

W. GRAHAM ROBERTSON .

Ring o' Roses

Hush a while, my darling, for the long day closes, Noddingintoslumberonthebluehill'screst. See the little clouds play Ring a ring o roses, Planting Fairygardensinthe red-roseWest.

Greet him for us, cloudlets, say we're not for getting Golden gifts of sunshine, merry hours of play. Ring a ring o roses round the sweet sun's setting, Spread a bed of roses for the dear dead day.

Hush-a-bye,my little one, the dear day dozes, Doffed his crown of kingship and his fair flag furled, While the earth and sky play Ring a ring o roses , Ring a ring o'roses round the rose-red world. W. GRAHAM ROBERTSON .

Dream - Land

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe Sailed on a river of crystal light, Into a sea of dew . Where are you going, and what do you wish ? "

The old moon asked the three . Wehavecometofishfortheherringfish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we! SaidWynken, Blynken, And Nod .

Theold moonlaughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew .

Eugene field

The little stars were the herring fish

That lived in that beautiful sea Now cast your nets wherever you wish Never afeared are we " : So cried the stars to the fishermen three : Wynken, Blynken, And Nod .

All night long their nets they threw

To the stars in the twinkling foam Thendownfromtheskiescamethewoodenshoe

Bringing the fishermen home; 'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed As if it could not be, And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed

Ofsailing that beautiful sea But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod .

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head,

field

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one's trundle-bed. So shut your eyes while mother sings Ofwonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rockinthe mistysea, Where theold shoe rocked the fishermen three : Wynken, Blynken, And Nod . EUGENE FIELD .

The Drummer-Boy and the Shepherdess Drummer-boy, drummer-boy, where is your drum ? And why do you weep, sitting here on your thumb ?

The soldiers are out, and the fifes we can hear; Butwhereisthe drumoftheyounggrenadier?

My dear little drum it was stolen away Whilst I was asleep on a sunshiny day; It was all through the drone ofa big bumble bee, And sheep and a shepherdess under a tree.

W. B. Rands

Shepherdess,shepherdess,whereisyourcrook? And why isyourlittlelamb over the brook? It bleats for its dam, and dog Tray is not by, Sowhy doyou stand with a tear inyoureye?

My dear little crook it was stolen away WhilstI dreamt a dreamon amorningin May; It was all through the drone of a big bumble bee, And adrumandadrummer-boyundera tree. W. B. RANDS .

The Land of Dreams

Awake, awake, my little boy! Thou wast thy mother's only joy; Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? O wake! thy father doth thee keep.

O what land is the land of dreams ? What are its mountains and what are its streams?

O father! I saw my mother there, Among the lilies by waters fair.

Dear child ! I also by pleasant streams Havewanderedallnightinthelandofdreams, But, though calm and warm the waters wide I could not get to the other side.'

"Father, O father! what do we here, In this land of unbelief and fear ?

The land ofdreams is better far, Above the light ofthe morning star.

WILLIAM BLAKE .

Sweet and Low

Sweet and low , sweet and low, Wind of the western sea; Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea !

Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my littleone,whilemyprettyone,sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon;

56 Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon: Sleep,mylittleone,sleep, myprettyone, sleep.

ALFRED , LORD TENNYSON .

Cradle Song

O hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see , They all are belonging, dearbaby, to thee.

O fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, It calls but thewarders that guard thy repose; Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, Erethestepofafoemandrawsneartothybed.

Ohushthee,mybaby,thetimewillsooncome, When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum;

Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.

Mother and I

O Mother-My-Love, if you'll give me your hand, And go where I askyou towander,, I willlead you away toabeautiful land The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder. We'll walk in a sweet-posy garden out there, Wheremoonlightandstarlightarestreaming, Andtheflowersandthebirdsarefillingthe air

With the fragrance and music of dreaming.

There'll be no little tired -out boy to undress, No questions or cares to perplex you; There'llbe nolittlebruises orbumps tocaress, Nor patching of stockings to vex you.

For I'll rockyou awayon a silver-dew stream, And sing you asleep when you're weary,

58 Eugene field

And no one shall know of our beautiful dream But you and your own little dearie.

And when I am tired I'll nestle my head In the bosom that's sooth'd me so often, Andthewide-awakestarsshallsinginmystead which our dreaming shall soften.

Asong

So Mother-My-Love, let me take your dear hand, And away through the starlight we'll wan der Awaythrough the mist tothebeautiful land The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder!

EUGENE FIELD .

Fairy-Land

The Fairies

Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather !

Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Ofyellow tide-foam ; Some in the reeds Of the black mountain -lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake. 59

william Allingham

High on the hill-top

The old King sits; He is now so old and grey He's nigh lost his wits. With a bridge ofwhite mist Columbkill he crosses, On his statelyjourneys From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights.

They stole little Bridget For seven years long; When she came down again Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back, Between the night and morrow , They thought that shewas fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since Deep within the lakes, On a bed offlag-leaves, Watching till she wakes.

Allingham

By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare, They have planted thorn-trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring As dig one up in spite, He shall find their sharpest thorns In his bed at night.

Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear oflittle men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together, Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather ! WILLIAM ALLINGHAM .

Shakespeare's Fairies

(Some ofthem , - ) Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot

Shakespeare

Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When hecomes back; youdemi-puppets,'that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew . .

(They Dance and Play,- )

Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands : Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd,The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.

Hark, hark! Bow, wow , The watch-dogs bark: Bow,wow , Hark, hark! I hear demi- puppets : half the size of a doll. a whist : silent. 3 featly : neatly , elegantly .

The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow !

(Ariel Sings, - )

Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry . On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I live now , Under the blossomthat hangs onthe bough.

(A Busy One)

Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moonè's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs ! upon the green . The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see;

* Orbs: circles, or fairy rings.

Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here,, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

(They Sing Their Queen to Sleep, -)

You spotted snakes with doubletongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong; Come not near our fairy queen. Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla lulla, lullaby! Never harm , Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.

Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legg'd spinners,hence! Beetles black, approach not near; Worm nor snail, do no offence. Philomel, with melody,

Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.

SHAKESPEARE .

The Lavender Beds

The garden was pleasant with old-fashioned flowers, The sunflowers and hollyhocks stood up like towers ; There were dark turncap lilies and jessamine rare , And sweet thyme and marjoram scented the air .

The moon made the sun-dial tell the time wrong ; 'Twas toolate in theyearfor the nightingale's song ; 5

wa. B. Rands

Thebox-treeswereclipped, andthealleyswere straight,

Till you came to the shrubbery hard by the gate .

The fairies stepped out of the lavender beds, With mob-caps, or wigs, on their quaint little heads; My lord had a sword and my lady a fan; The music struck up and the dancing be gan . I watched them go through with a grave minuet;

Wherever they footed the dew was not wet; They bowed and they curtsied, the brave and the fair; And laughter like chirping of crickets was there . Then all on a sudden a church clock struck loud : A flutter, a shiver, was seen in the crowd,

The cock crew , the wind woke, the trees tossed their heads, And the fairy folk hid in the lavender beds.

W. B. RANDS.

Farewell to the Fairies

Farewell rewards and fairies, Good housewives now may say, For now foul sluts in dairies Do fare as well as they. And though they sweep their hearths no less Than maids were wont to do, Yet who oflate, for cleanliness, Finds sixpence in her shoe?

At morning and at evening both, You merry were and glad, So little care ofsleep or sloth Those pretty ladies had. When Tom came home from labour, Or Cis to milking rose, Then merrily went their tabor, And nimbly went their toes.

Witness those rings and roundelays Of theirs, which yet remain, Were footed in Queen Mary's days On many a grassy plain; But since of late Elizabeth, And later, James came in, They never danced on any heath As when the time hath been .

By which we note the fairies Were ofthe old profession, Their songs were Ave-Maries, Their dances were procession: But now, alas! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas; Or farther for religion fled, Or else they take their ease.

A tell-tale in their company

They never could endure, And whoso kept not secretly Their mirth, was punished sure; It was a just and Christian deed

6. w . Thornbury 69

To pinch such black and blue: O how the commonwealth doth need Such justices as you!

RICHARD CORBET (1582 1635).

Dirge on the Death ofOberon, the Fairy King

Toll the lilies' silver bells ! Oberon, the King, is dead!

In her griefthe crimson rose All her velvet leaves has shed .

Toll the lilies' silver bells ! Oberon is dead and gone!

He who looked an emperor When his glow -worm crown was on.

Toll the lilies' silver bells ! Slaythe dragonfly, his steed; Dig hisgrave within the ring Of the mushrooms in the mead . G. W. THORNBURY. (But he wasn't dead really. It was all a mistake . So they didn't slay the dragonfly after all.)

James bogg

Kilmeny

(A Story about one who went there)

Bonny Kilmeny gaed ' up the glen; But it wasna to meet Duneira's men, Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. It was only to hear the yorlinº sing,, And pull the blue-cress-flower round the spring; To pull the hip and the hindberrye,3 And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree; For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. But lang may her minniet look o er the wa', Andlangmaysheseekinthegreenwoodshaw; Lang the Laird o Duneira blame, Andlang,langgreets e'er Kilmenycomehame!

When many a day had come and fled, When griefgrew calm, and hope was dead, When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung, Whenthebedesman had prayed and the dead bell rung;

Igaed : went . * yorlin : yellow -hammer . 3 hindberrye: wild rasp berry. A minnie: mother. 5 greet : weep .

bogg

Late, late in a gloaming, when all was still, When the fringe was red on the westlin' hill, The wood was sere, the moon i' the wane, The reek ofthe cot hung o'er the plain, Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane;3 When the ingle4 lowed5 with an eery gleam, Late, late in the gloamin', Kilmeny came hame !

Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been ? Lang hae we sought baith holt and dene;

sBy linn,' by ford, and green-wood tree, Yet you are halesome and fair to see. Where gat you that joup? ofthe lily sheen? That bonny snood ofthe birkº sae green? And these roses, the fairest that ever were seen ?

Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been ?

Kilmeny look'd up with a lovelygrace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face; As still was her look, and as still was her ee,

I westlin : western . areek : smoke. 3 its lane : alone . 4 ingle: fire . 5 lowed : flamed . Olinn : waterfall. ? joup: bodice. 8 snood : hair -ribbon . 9 birk : birch .

James bogg

As the stillness that lay on the emerald lea, Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. For Kilmeny had been she knew not where, And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare . Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew, Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew . But it seem'd as the harp of the sky had rung, And the airs of heaven play'd round her tongue, When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen, And a land where sin had never been; A land oflove and a land oflight, Withouten sun, or moon, or night; The land of vision it would seem, And still an everlasting dream.

Theylifted Kilmeny, they led her away, And she walk'd in the light ofa sunless day; The sky was a dome of crystal bright,

bogg

The fountain of vision, and fountain of light: The emerald fields were of dazzling glow, And the flowers of everlasting blow. Then deep in the stream her body they laid, That her youth and beauty might never fade; And they smiled on heaven, when they saw her lie In the stream oflife that wander'd by. And sheheard asong, sheheard it sung, She kenn'd not where; but so sweetly it rung, It fell on the ear like a dream of the morn : O blest be the day Kilmeny was born !

To sing ofthe sights Kilmeny saw , So far surpassing nature's law, The singer's voice would sink away, And the stringofhis harp would cease to play. But she saw till the sorrows ofman were by, And all was love and harmony; Till the stars ofheaven fell calmly away, Like the flakes ofsnow on a winter day.

James bogg

When seven lang years had come and fled, When griefwas calm and hope was dead; When was remembered Kilmeny's name ,

scarce

Late, late in a gloaming Kilmeny came hamel And O, her beauty was fair to see, But still and steadfast was her ee! Her seymar' was the lily flower, And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower; And her voice like the distant melody That floats along the twilight sea. But she loved to raike the lanely glen, And keep it away frae the haunts ofmen; Her holy hymns unheard to sing, To suck the flowers, and drink the spring. But wherever her peaceful form appear'd, The wild beasts of the hill were cheer'd; The wolf play'd blythly round the field, The lordly bison low'd and kneel'd; The dun deer woo'd with manner bland, And cower'd aneath her lily hand. And all in a peaceful ring were hurl'd; It was like an eve in a sinless world!

1 seymar : a light robe. a raike: wander through.

James bogg

When a month and a day had come and gane, Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene; There laid her down on the leaves sae green, And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen.

Two Songs

A Boy's Song

Wherethe pools are bright and deep, Where the grey trout lies asleep, Up the river and over the lea, That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to track the homeward bee, That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the clustering nuts fall free, That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That's the thing I never could tell. But this I know, I love to play Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the water and over the lea, That's the way for Billy and me.

A Girls Song

There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream , And the nightingale sings found it all the day long;

In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream

To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song .

That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone in the bloom ofthe year, I think - is the nightingale singing there yet? Are the rosesstillbright bythecalm Bende meer ?

No, the rosessoon withered that hung o'er the wave, But some blossoms were gathered, while freshly they shone, And adewwas distilled from theirflowers, that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone.

Thusmemorydrawsfromdelight,ereitdies, An essence that breathes of it many a year; Thusbrighttomysoul,as'twasthentomyeyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer !

fur and feather

Men are brethren ofeach other, One inflesh and one infood; And a sort of foster brother Is the litter, or the brood, Of thatfolk infur orfeather,

Who, with men together, Breast the wind and weather.

CHRISTINA ROSSETTI .

Three Things to Remember

A Robin Redbreast in a cage. Puts all Heaven in a rage.

A skylark wounded on the wing Doth make a cherub cease to sing.

He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be beloved by men.

WILLIAM BLAKE .

b. A. Maugham

The Knight ofBethlehem

There was a Knight of Bethlehem, Whose wealth was tears and sorrows; His men-at-arms were little lambs, His trumpeters were sparrows. His castle was a wooden cross, On which he hung so high; His helmet was a crown of thorns, Whose crest did touch the sky. H. N. MAUGHAM .

The Lamb

Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee ?

Gave thee life, and bade thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice?

Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee ?

Little lamb, I'll tell thee; Little lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb . He is meek, and He is mild, He became a little child . I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little lamb, God bless thee! Little lamb, God bless thee! WILLIAM BLAKE .

The Tiger

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Framed thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies Burned that fire within thine eyes? On what wings dared he aspire? What the hand dared seize the fire ?

82 William Blake

And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews ofthy heart?

When thy heart began to beat, What dread hand formed thy dread feet?

What the hammer, what the chain, Knit thy strength and forged thy brain? What the anvil ? What dread grasp Dared thy deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see ? Did He who made the lamb make thee ?

I Had a Dove

I had a dove, and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died ofgrieving; O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied With a silken thread of my own hands weaving.

John 'keats 83

Sweet little red feet! why should you die Why would you leave me, sweet bird! why?

You lived alone in the forest tree, Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me ?

I kiss'd youoft and gave you white peas; Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees ?

JOHN KEATS.

Robin Redbreast

Good-bye, good-bye to Summer! For Summer's nearly done; The garden smiling faintly, Cool breezes in the sun; Our thrushes now are silent, Our swallows flown away , But Robin's here in coat of brown, And scarlet breast-knot gay.

wailliam Allingham

Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear !

Robin sings so sweetly In the fallingofthe year.

Bright yellow, red, and orange, The leaves come down in hosts ; The trees are Indian princes, But soon they'll turn to ghosts; Theleathery pears and apples

Hang russet on the bough; It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, ' Twill soon be Winter now .

Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear ! And what will this poor Robin do? For pinching days are near.

The fireside for the cricket, The wheatstack for the mouse, When trembling night-winds whistle And moan all round the house . The frosty ways like iron, The branches plumed with snow,

Alas! in winter dead and dark, Where can poor Robin go? Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And a crumb of bread for Robin, His little heart to cheer . WILLIAM ALLINGHAM .

Black Bunny

It was a black Bunny, with white in its head Alive when the children went cosy to bed O early next morning that Bunny was dead!

When Bunny's young master awoke up from sleep, To look at the creatures young master did creep , And saw that this black one lay all ofa heap.

" O Bunny, what ails you? What does it import That you lean on one side, with your breath coming short? ForI never before saw a thingofthe sort!

W. B. "Rands

They took him so gently up out of his hutch, They made him a sick-bed, they loved him so much;

They wrapped him up warm; they said, Poor thing, and such;

But all to no purpose. Black Bunny he died, And rolled over limp on his little black side; The grown-up spectators looked awkward and sighed.

While, as forthose others in that congregation, You heard voices lifted in sore lamentation; But three-year-old Baby desired explanation:

Atleast, soit seemed. Thentheyburied their dead

In a nice quiet place, with a flag at his head; Poor Bunny! in large print was what the flag said.

Now, as they were shovelling the earth in the hole, Little Baby burstout, I don't like it! -poor soul ! And bitterly wept. So the dead had his dole.

w. B. Rands

That evening,asBabeshewascuddlingto bed, TheBunnywillcomeback again, Babysaid, And be a white bunny, and never be dead!

W.

The Cow

Thank you, pretty cow , that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day, and every night, Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.

Do not chew the hemlock rank, Growing on the weedy bank; But the yellow cowslips eat, They will make it very sweet.

Where the purple violet grows,, Where the bubbling water flows, Where the grass is fresh and fine, Pretty cow, go there and dine.

The Skylark

Bird ofthe wilderness, Blythesome and cumberless, * cumberless : unencumbered, free from care.

I

James bogg

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea !

Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place O to abide in the desert with thee !

Wild is thy lay and loud Far in the downy cloud, Lovegives it energy, it birth . Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying?

lovegave

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green,

O er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms, Sweet will thy welcome and bed oflove be!

Emblem ofhappiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place O to abide in the desert with thee !

Christmas Poems

Here one would like to have begun with some of the old - time carols. But carols, somehow , seem to demand certain accompaniments snow and frost, starlight and lantern -light, a mingling of Church bells, and above all their own simple haunting music. In cold print they do not appeal to us to the same extent . But the poems thatfollowareinthetruecarol-spirit.

Christmas Eve

In holly hedges starving birds Silently mourn the setting year; Upright like silver-plated swords The flags stand in the frozen mere. The mistletoe we still adore Upon the twisted hawthorn grows: In antique gardens hellebore Puts forth its blushing Christmas rose.

Shrivell d and purple, cheek by jowl, The hips and haws hang drearily Roll'd in a ball the sulky owl Creeps far into his hollow tree. 89

John Davidson

In abbeys and cathedrals dim

The birth of Christ is acted o'er; The kings ofCologne worship him, Balthazar, Jasper, Melchior.

The shepherds in the field at night Beheld an angel glory-clad, And shrank away with sore affright. Be not afraid, the angel bade.

I bring good news to king and clown, To you here crouching on the sward; For there is born in David's town A Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

Behold the babe is swathed, and laid Within a manger. Straight there stood Beside the angel all arrayed A heavenly multitude.

Glory to God, they sang; peace, Good pleasure amongmen. The wondrous message of release! Glory to God again!

"and

Hush! Hark! the waits, far up the street!

A distant, ghostly charm unfolds, Of magic music wild and sweet, Anomes and clarigolds.

A Christmas Carol

What sweeter music can we bring Than a carol, for to sing The birth ofthis our heavenly King? Awake the voice! awake the string! Heart, ear, and eye, and everything!

Dark and dull night, fly hence away, And give the honour to this day, That sees December turned to May.

Ifwe may ask the reason, say, The why and wherefore all things here Seem like the spring-time ofthe year.

Why does the chilling winter's morn Smile, like a field beset with corn? Or smell, like to a mead new-shorn, Thus, on the sudden?

Robert berrick

Come and see

The cause, why things thus fragrant be. 'Tis He is born, whose quickening birth Gives light and lustre, public mirth, Toheaven, and the under-earth.

We see Him come, and know Him ours, Who with His sunshine and His showers Turns all the patient ground to flowers.

The darling ofthe world is come, And fit it is we find a room To welcome Him. The nobler part Of all the house here, is the heart, Which we will give Him; and bequeath This holly, and this ivy wreath, To do Him honour; who's our King, And Lord of all this revelling.

A Child's Present to His Child - Saviour

Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour; And tell Him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known;

Robert berrick

When thou hast said so, stick it there Upon his bib, or stomacher; And tell Him, for good handsel' too, That thou hast brought a whistle new , Made of a clean straight oaten reed, To charm his cries at time of need .

Tell Him, for coral thou hast none; But if thou hadst, He should have one; But poor art, and known to be Even as moneyless, as He. Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss

thou art,

From those mellifluous lips of His, Then never take a second on , To spoil the first impression.

The Peace -Giver

Thou whose birth on earth Angels sang to men, While thy stars made mirth, Saviour, at thy birth. This day born again;

i handsel: a gift for good luck .

A. C. Swinburne

As this night was bright With thy cradle-ray, Very light oflight, Turn the wild world's night To thy perfect day.

Thou the Word and Lord In all time and space Heard, beheld, adored, With all ages poured Forthbefore thy face,

Lord, what worth in earth Drew thee down to die ? What therein was worth, Lord, thy death and birth? What beneath thy sky?

Thou whose face givesgrace As the sun's doth heat, Let thy sunbright face Lighten time and space Here beneath thy feet.

A. C. Swinburne 95

Bid our peace increase, Thou that madest morn; Bid oppression cease; Bid the night be peace; Bid the day be born. A. C. SWINBURNE .

lDatious

To a Singer

My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing; And thine doth like an angel sit Beside the helm conducting it, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. It seems to float ever, for ever, Upon that many-winding river, Between mountains, woods, abysses, A paradise of wildernessesI Till, like one in slumber bound, Borne to the ocean, I float down, around, Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound. Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions In music's most serene dominions; Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven.

P. B. Shelley

And we sail on, away, afar, Without a course, without a star, But by the instinct of sweet music driven; Till through Elysian garden islets By thee, most beautiful of pilots, Where never mortal pinnace glided, The boat of my desire is guided: Realms where the air we breathe is love, Which in the winds on the waves doth move , Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above .

P. B. SHELLEY.

The Happy Piper

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs ofpleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: Pipe a song about a Lamb! So I piped with merry cheer.

llUlllllam :131alte

"Piper, pipe that song again;" So I piped: he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear.

"Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read." So he vanish'd from my sight, And I pluck'd a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear�

WILLIAM BLAKE.

TheDestructionofSennacherib

The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee .

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green , That host with their banners at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hathblown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown .

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on theblast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;

And the eyes ofthe sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for evergrew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

Lord Byron

But through it there rolled not the breath of hispride:

And the foam ofhis gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by thesword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord !

LORD BYRON.

Thomas Buchanan Read IOI

The next two spirited poems both hailing from America are inserted with a view to their beingusefultoboyswhohaveatasteforrecitation.

Sheridan's Ride

Up from the south at break of day, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble and rumble and roar, Telling the battle was on once more And Sheridan twenty miles away!

And wilder still those billows of war Thundered along the horizon s bar; And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar ofthat red sea uncontrolled, Making the blood of the listener cold As he thought ofthe stake in that fiery fray, WithSheridan twenty miles away!

But there is a road from Winchester town, A good broad highway leading down; And there, through the flash of the morning light,

ttbomas :13ucbanan 'Reab

A steed, as black as the steeds of night, Was seen to pass as with eagle flight. As if he knew the terrible need, He stretched away with his utmost speed; Hills rose and fell, but his heart was gay, With Sheridan fifteen miles awayI Stillsprangfromthoseswifthoofs, thundering south, The dust, like the smoke from the cannon's mouth, Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster; The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; Everynerveofthechargerwasstrainedtofull play, With Sheridan only ten miles away!

The first that the General saw was the groups Ofstragglers, and then the retreatingtroops! What was done what to do a glance told himboth;

And, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath He dashed down the line ' mid a storm of huzzahs, And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because The sight ofthe Master compelled it to pause. With foam and with dust the black charger was grey ; By the flash of his eye and his red nostril's play He seemed to the whole great army to say I have brought you Sheridan, all the way From Winchester town to save the day!

Hurrah, hurrah, for Sheridan! Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man! And when their statues are placed on high Under the dome of the Union sky -TheAmerican soldier'sTempleof Fame There, with the glorious General's name,

104 Thomas Buchanan 'Read

Be it said in letters both bold and bright, Here is the steed that saved the day

By carrying Sheridan into the fight, From Winchester- twenty miles away!

Columbus

Behind him lay the grey Azores, Behind, the Gates of Hercules; Before him not the ghost of shores; Before him only shoreless seas. Thegood mate said: Nowmustwe pray, For lo! the very stars are gone.

Brave Admiral, speak; what shall I say? "Why, say 'Sail on! sail on! and on!

My men grow mutinous day by day; My men growghastly, wan and weak. The stout mate thought ofhome; a spray Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. What shall I say, brave Admiral, say, Ifwe sight naught but seas at dawn?"

Why, you shall say at break ofday: Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on !""

Miller

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow, Until at last the blanched mate said: Why, now not even God would know Should I and all my men fall dead. These very winds forget their way, For God from these dread seas is gone.

Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say He said: Sail on! sail on! and on !

They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate : This mad sea shows his teeth to-night.

He curls his lip, he lies in wait, He lifts his teeth as if to bite !

Brave Admiral, say but one good word: What shall we do when hope is gone?

The words leapt like a leaping sword: Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on !

Then, pale and worn, he paced his deck, And peered through darkness. Ah, that night

Of all dark nights! And then a speck A light! A light! At last a light!

Joaquin Miller

It grew, a starlit flag unfurled ! It grew to be Time's burst ofdawn. He gained a world; he gave that world Its grandest lesson: On! sail on !"

JOAQUIN MILLER.

Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, " of which this is the first, deal only with the legends that Rome in her greatness liked to tell concerning her early beginnings. Unfortunatelythereisnosimilargroupofpoemstreating of Imperial Rome, the centre of a world-empire; but children must please not think of the Mistress of the World merely as a little riverside town which couldfree itself fromoutsidetroublebychoppingdownawoodenbridge.

Horatius

Lars Porsena of Clusium

By the Nine Gods he swore That the great house ofTarquin Should suffer wrong no more.

By the Nine Gods he swore it, And named a trysting day, And bade his messengers ride forth East and west and south and north To summon his array.

Lord Macaulay

East and west and south and north

The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage

Have heard the trumpet's blast. Shame on the false Etruscan Who lingers in his home, When Porsena of Clusium Is on the march for Rome .

The horsemen and the footmen Are pouring in amain From many a stately market-place, From many a fruitful plain; From many a lonely hamlet Which, hid by beech and pine, Like an eagle's nest hangs on the crest Of purple Apennine;

From lordly Volaterræ, Where scowls the far - famed hold Piled by the hands of giants For godlike kings ofold;

Lord Macaulay

From sea-girt Populonia

Whose sentinels descry Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops Fringing thesouthern sky;

From the proud mart of Pisæ, Queen ofthe western waves, Where ride Massilia's triremes

Heavy with fair-haired slaves; From where sweet Clanis wanders Through corn and vines and flowers; From where Cortona lifts to heaven Her diadem of towers .

Tall are the oaks whose acorns Drop in dark Auser's rill;

Fat are the stags that champ the boughs Of the Ciminian hill; Beyond all streams Clitumnus Is to the herdsman dear; Best ofall pools thefowler loves The great Volsinian mere.

Lord Macaulay

But now no stroke of woodman Is heard by Auser's rill; No hunter tracks the stag's green path Up the Ciminian hill; Unwatched along Clitumnus Grazes the milk-white steer; Unharmed the water-fowl may dip In the Volsinian mere.

The harvests of Arretium

This year old men shall reap; This year young boys in Umbro Shall plunge the struggling sheep; And in the vats of Luna This year the must " shall foam Round the white feet of laughing girls Whose sires have marched to Rome .

There be thirty chosen prophets, The wisest of the land, Who alway by Lars Porsena Both morn and evening stand:

I must: grape -juice.

macaula\?

Evening and morn the Thirty Have turned the verses o'er, Traced from the right on linen white By mighty Seers of yore. And with one voice the Thirty Have their glad answer given: "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; Go forth, beloved of Heaven; Go, and return in glory To Clusium's royal dome, And hang round Nurscia's altars The golden shields of Rome." And now hath every city Sent up her tale of men; The foot are fourscore thousand, The horse are thousands ten. Before the gates of Sutrium Is met the great array. A proud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting day!

Lord Macaulay III

For all the Etruscan armies Were ranged beneath his eye, And many a banished Roman, And many a stout ally; And with a mighty following To join the muster came The Tusculan Mamilius, Prince of the Latin name.

But by the yellow Tiber Was tumult and affright: From all the spacious champaign To Rome men took their flight. A mile around the city The throng stopped up the ways ; A fearful sight it was to see, Through two long nights and days.

For agèd folk on crutches, And women great with child, And mothers sobbing over babes That clung to them and smiled,

II2 Lord Macaulay

And sick men borne in litters

High on the necks ofslaves, And troops of sun-burned husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves, And droves of mules and asses Laden with skins ofwine, And endless flocks ofgoats and sheep, And endless herds of kine, And endless trains of waggons That creaked beneath the weight Ofcorn-sacks and ofhousehold goods, Choked every roaring gate.

Now from the rock Tarpeian Could the wan burghers spy

The line of blazingvillages Red in the midnight sky. The Fathers of the City, They sat all night and day, For every hour some horseman came With tidings of dismay.

Lord Macaulay 113

To eastward and to westward Have spread the Tuscan bands; Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote In Crustumerium stands . Verbenna down to Ostia Hath wasted all the plain; Astur hath stormed Janiculum, And the stout guards are slain.

I wis, in all the Senate There was no heart so bold But sore it ached, and fast it beat, When that ill news was told . Forthwith up rose the Consul, Up rose the Fathers all; In haste they girded up their gowns, And hied them to the wall .

They held a council standing Before the River-Gate; Short time was there, ye well may guess, For musing or debate.

Lord Macaulay

Out spake the Consul roundly: The bridge must straight go down; For, since Janiculum is lost, Nought else can save the town."

Just then a scout came flying, All wild with haste and fear : To arms! to arms! Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here ." On the low hills to westward The Consul fixed his eye, And saw the swarthy storm ofdust Rise fast along the sky.

And nearer fast and nearer Doth the red whirlwind come; And louder still and still more loud

From underneath that rolling cloud Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, The trampling, and the hum. And plainly and more plainly Now through thegloom appears,

Far to left and far to right, In broken gleams ofdark-blue light, The long array ofhelmets bright, Thelong array ofspears.

And plainly and more plainly Above that glimmering line Now might ye see the banners Of twelve fair cities shine; But the banner of proud Clusium Was highest ofthem all, The terror of the Umbrian, The terror ofthe Gaul. And plainly and more plainly Now might the burghers know, By port and vest, by horse and crest, Each warlike Lucumo."

There Cilnius of Arretium

On his fleet roan was seen ; And Astur ofthe fourfold shield,

* Lucumo : Etruscan nobleman .

Lord Macaulay

Girt with the brand none else may wield, Tolumnius with the belt ofgold, And dark Verbenna from the hold By reedy Thrasymene.

Fast by the royal standard O erlooking all the war, Lars Porsena of Clusium Sate in his ivory car. By the right wheel rode Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name; And by the left false Sextus, That wrought the deed of shame.

But when the face of Sextus Was seen among the foes, A yell that rent the firmament From all the town arose.

On the house-tops was no woman But spat towards him, and hissed; No child but screamed out curses, And shook its little fist.

But the Consul's brow was sad, And the Consul's speech was low, And darkly looked he at the wall, And darkly at the foe. Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge, What hope to save the town?

Then out spakebrave Horatius, The Captain ofthe gate: To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late; And how can man die better Then facing fearful odds

For the ashes of his fathers And the temples ofhis Gods,

And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest , And for the wife who nurses His baby at her breast,

And for the holy maidens Who feed the eternal flame, To save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed ofshame?

Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may; I, with two more to help me, Will hold the foe in play. In yon strait path a thousand May well be stopped by three: Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with me?

Then out spake Spurius Lartius, A Ramnian proud was he: " Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee."

And out spake strong Herminius, Of Titian blood was he : I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee.

Lord Macaulay

Horatius, quoth the Consul,

As thou sayest, so let it be.' And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three.

For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, Nor son norwife, nor limb nor life In the brave days of old.

Then none was for a party; Then all were for the State; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great; Then lands were fairly portioned; Then spoils were fairly sold; The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.

Now Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes beard the high, And the Fathers grind the low.

Lord Dacaulay

As we wax hot in faction, In battle we wax cold : Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old.

Now while the Three were tightening Their harness on their backs, The Consul was the foremost man To take in hand an axe: And Fathers mixed with Commons Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,, And smote upon the planks above, And loosed the props below.

Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea ofgold.

Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal ofwarlike glee, As that great host, with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless Three.

+

Lord Macaulay

The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout oflaughter

From all the vanguard rose: And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array;

Toearththeysprang, theirswordstheydrew, And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow way ; Aunus from green Tifernum ,, Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; And Picus, long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers

From that grey crag where, girt with towers, The fortress ofNequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar.

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus Into the stream beneath: Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth:

Lord Macaulay

At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust, And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust. Then Ocnus of Falerii Rushed on the Roman Three; And Lausulus of Urgo, The rover of the sea; And Aruns ofVolsinium, Who slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den Amidstthe reeds of Cosa's fen, And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, Along Albinia's shore.

Herminius smote down Aruns : Lartius laid Ocnus low : Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow . Lie there, he cried, fell pirate! No more, aghast and pale,

From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark. No more Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice-accursed sail."

But now no sound oflaughter Was heard amongst the foes.. A wild and wrathful clamour From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance Halted that deep array, And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow way.

But hark! the cry is Astur! And lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield .

124 Lord Macaulay

He smiled on those bold Romans A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye. Quoth he, The she-wolf's litter Stand savagely at bay: But will ye dare to follow, IfAstur clears theway?

Then, whirling up his broadsword With both hands to the height, He rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might. With shield and blade Horatius Right deftly turned the blow : The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow .

He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing-space; Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, Sprang right at Astur's face.

.

Lord Macaulay

Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, So fierce a thrust he sped

The good sword stood a handbreadth out Behind the Tuscan's head. And the great Lord ofLuna Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernus A thunder - smitten oak : Far o'er the crashing forest The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head.

On Astur's throat Horatius

Right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel . And see, he cried, " the welcome, Fair guests, that waits you here! What noble Lucumo comes next To taste our Roman cheer ?

Lord Macaulay

But at his haughty challenge

A sullen murmur ran, Mingled ofwrath and shame and dread, Along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess, Nor men oflordly race;

For all Etruria's noblest Were round the fatal place.

But all Etruria's noblest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corpses, In the path the dauntless Three: And, from the ghastly entrance Where those bold Romans stood, All shrank, like boys who unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair Where, growling low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood .

Was none who would be foremost To lead such dire attack; But those behind cried " Forward! And those before cried " Back !

Lord Macaulay 127

And backward now and forward Wavers the deep array;

And on the tossing sea of steel, To and fro the standards reel; And the victorious trumpet-peal Dies fitfully away.

Yet one man for one moment Strode out before the crowd; Well known was he to all the Three, And they gave him greeting loud. Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! Now welcome to thy home! Why dost thou stay, and turn away? Here lies the road to Rome.

Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread: And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way

Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay.

Lord Macaulay

But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. " Come back, come back, Horatius! Loud cried the Fathers all . Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! Back, ere the ruin fall!

Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back : And, as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack. But, when they turned their faces, And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, Theywould have crossed once more.

But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam, And, like a dam the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream:

Lord Macaulay

And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam.

And, like a horse unbroken When first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, And tossed his tawny mane; And burst the curb, and bounded, Rejoicing to be free; And whirling down, in fierce career, Battlement, and plank, and pier, Rushed headlong to the sea.

Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind . Down with him ! cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. Now yield thee, cried Lars Porsena, Now yield thee to our grace.

Lord Macaulay

Round turned he, as not deigning Those craven ranks to see ; Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus nought spake he; But he saw on Palatinus

The white porch ofhis home; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome.

O Tiber ! father Tiber !

To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms Take thou in charge this day! So he spake, and speaking sheathèd The good sword by his side, And with his harness on his back Plunged headlong in the tide.

No sound ofjoy or sorrow

Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes in dumb surprise, With parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank;

Lord Macaulay

And when above the surges They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks ofTuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer .

But fiercely ran the current, Swollen high by months of rain: And fast his blood was flowing; And he was sore in pain, And heavy with his armour, And spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking, But still again he rose.

Never, I ween, did swimmer, In such an evil case,

Struggle through such a ragingflood Safe to the landing-place: But his limbs were borne up bravely By the brave heart within, And our good father Tiber Bare bravely up his chin.

Lord Dacaulay

Curse on him ! quoth false Sextus; Will not the villain drown ?

But for this stay ere close of day We should have sacked the town !" Heaven help him ! quoth Lars Porsena, " And bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before. "

And now he feels the bottom; Now on dry earth he stands; Now round him throng the Fathers To press his And now with shouts and clapping, And noise ofweeping loud, He enters through the River-Gate, Borne by the joyous crowd.

goryhands;

They gave him ofthe corn -land, That was ofpublic right, As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night;

And they made a molten image, And set it up on high, And there it stands unto this day To witness if I lie .

It stands in the Comitium Plain for all folk to see ; Horatius in his harness, Halting upon one knee: And underneath is written, In letters all ofgold, How valiantly he kept the bridge In the brave days of old. And still his name sounds stirring Unto the men of Rome, As the trumpet-blast that cries to them To charge the Volscian home; And wives still pray to Juno For boys with hearts as bold As his who kept the bridge so well ' In the brave days of old.

Lord acaulay

And in the nights ofwinter, When the cold north winds blow , And the long howling of the wolves Is heard amidst the snow ; When round the lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din, And the good logs ofAlgidus Roar louder yet within;

When the oldest cask is opened, Andthe largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows;

When the goodman mends his armour And trims his helmet's plume; When the goodwife's shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the loom ;

Lord Macaulay 135

With weeping and with laughter

Still is the story told, How well Horatius kept the bridge

In the brave days of old. LORD MACAULAY.

for Those Still Older

Hature, Country, and the Open Air

To Meadows

Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill'd with flowers; And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours.

You have beheld how they With wicker arks did come To kiss and bear away The richer cowslips home.

You've heard them sweetly sing, And seen them in a round: Each virgin like a spring, With honeysuckles crown'd.

But now we see none here Whose silv'ry feet did tread And with dishevelled hair Adorn'd this smoother mead . 139

Robert Herrick

Like unthrifts, having spent Your stock, and needy grown, You're left here to lament Your poor estates, alone.

The Brook

I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.

I

By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And halfa hundred bridges.

I chatter over stony ways In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles.

i hern : heron .

* thorps : villages.

Tennyson

With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow -weed and mallow .

I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.

I wind about and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling.

And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel.

I steal bylawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.

Lord Tennyson

I slip, I slide, I gloom , I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly bars; I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.

Recollections of Early Childhood

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparell'd in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness ofa dream. It is not now as it hath been ofyore; Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more .

The rainbow 'comes and goes, And lovely is the rose; The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare ; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know , where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

Now , while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought ofgrief: A timely utterancegave that thought relief, And I again am strong.

1

william Wordsworth

The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep ;

No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ;

I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,

The winds come to me from the fields ofsleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea

Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart ofMay Doth every beast keep holiday; Thou Child ofJoy, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happyShepherd-boy!

Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel I feel it all. O evil day! if I were sullen

While Earth herselfis adorning, This sweet May morning, And the children are culling On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm : I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! -But there's a tree, of many one, A single field which I have look'd upon, Both ofthem speak ofsomething that isgone: Thepansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now , the glory and the dream?

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds ofglory do we come

From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy ! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily further from the east Must travel, still is Nature's priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.

(This is only a portion of the poem, which later you should take an opportunity of reading as a whole.)

John keats

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom -friend ofthe maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel;tosetbuddingmore, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease , ForSummerhaso'er-brimm'd theirclammy cells.

Whohath notseenTheeoft amid thystore? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,

John 'keats

· Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thyhook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where arethey?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too , -

While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows,' borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;2

isallows : willows. a bourn : stream , water -course .

John "keats

149 I

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden -croft;' And gathering swallows twitter in the skies .

JOHN KEATS. Ode to the West Wind

I

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thou Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse until Thine azure sister ofthe Spring shall blow I croft : enclosure .

within its grave,

150

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Drivingsweetbudslikeflockstofeed inair)

With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, O hear!

II

Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves areshed, Shook from the tangled boughsofheaven and ocean,

Angels of rain and lightning! there are spread

On the blue surface of thine airy surge,

Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

Of some fierce Maenad,' even from the dim verge Ofthe horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

* Maenad : a priestess of Bacchus, the wine- god .

percy Bysshe Shelley 151

Ofthedyingyear, towhichthis closingnight Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, Vaulted with all thy congregated might

Ofvapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: O hear ! III

Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams

TheblueMediterranean, wherehelay, Lulld by the coil' ofhis crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers i coil : confused noise, murmur . a pumice : formed of volcanic lava.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below

The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear

The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: Ohear!

IV

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud tofly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

The impulseofthy strength, onlyless free Than thou, O uncontrollable! if even I were as in my boyhood, and could be

The comrade ofthy wanderings over heaven, As then, when tooutstrip thy skiey speed Scarce seem'd a vision I would ne'er have striven

Asthuswith thee in prayerin mysore need. O! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns oflife! I bleed!

Percy Bysshe Shelley 153

A heavyweightofyearshaschain'd and bow'd One too like thee tameless, and swift, and proud.

V

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own? The tumult ofthy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, Likewither'd leaves, to quicken anewbirth; And, by the incantation ofthis verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth

The trumpet of a prophecy ! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY .

Percy Bysshe Shelley

To a Skylark

Hail to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wert That from heaven or near it Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains ofunpremeditated art.

Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest

Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are bright ning, Thou dost float and run, Like anunbodiedjoywhose race isjust begun.

The pale purple even Melts around thy flight; Like a star ofheaven, In the broad daylight Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.

Keen as are the arrows

Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.

All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflow'd .

What thou art we know not; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see,

As from thy presence showers a rain of melody:

Like a poet hidden In the light ofthought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not :

Like a high-born maiden

In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour

With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower :

Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew , Scattering unbeholden Its aërial hue

Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view :

Like a rose embower'd In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflower'd, Till the scent it gives

Makes faintwith too much sweet these heavy wingedthieves:

Sound of vernal showers

On the twinklinggrass,

Rain - awaken'd flowers

All that ever was Joyous and clear and fresh - thy music doth surpass.

Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine

That panted forth a flood ofrapture so divine.

Chorus hymeneal

Or triumphal chant, Match'd with thine would be all But an empty vaunt A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want .

What objects are the fountains

Ofthy happy strain?

What fields, or waves, or mountains?

What shapes of sky or plain?

What love ofthine own kind? what ignorance ofpain?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

With thy clear keen joyance

Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'erknewlove's sad satiety.

Waking or asleep, Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream , Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream ?

We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Oursweetestsongsarethosethattellofsaddest thought.

Yet if we could scorn Hate and pride and fear, Ifwe were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near .

Percy Bysshe Shelley 159

Better than all measures

Ofdelightful sound,

Better than all treasures

That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Teach me halfthe gladness

That thy brain must know; Such harmonious madness

From my lips would flow, Theworld should listen then, as I am listening now .

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY .

The Moon -Goddess

Queenandhuntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright.

160 Ben Jonson

Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itselfto interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Spaceto breathe, how short soever: Thou that mak'st a day of night Goddess excellently bright.

BEN JONSON.

Home-Thoughts from Abroad

O, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England-now!

And after April, when May follows, And the white throat builds, and all the swallows ! Hark, where my blossom'd pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent spray's edge

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,, Lest you should thinkhe nevercould recapture The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower -Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

ROBERT BROWNING .

Home-Thoughtsfrom the Sea i

Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgarlay; In the dimmest North-east distance dawn'd Gibraltar grand and grey; Here and here did England help me: how can I help England? say, Whosoturns as I, this evening, turn toGod to pray ,

praise and

While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa .

ROBERT BROWNING .

Green Seas and Sailor Men

1. THE CALL OF THE SEA

Ye Mariners of England

Ye Mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze ! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe; And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow ! While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave; For the deck it was their field offame, And Ocean was their grave:

164 Thomas Campbell

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow,

As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow !

While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain -waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below,

As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow !

When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger's troubled night depart And the star ofpeace return.

Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow ! When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow.

The Secret ofthe Sea

Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me As I gaze upon the sea ! All the old romantic legends, All my dreams come back to me. I Sails of silk and ropes of sendal, Such as gleam in ancient lore; And the singing ofthe sailors, And the answer from the shore !

Most of all, the Spanish ballad Haunts me oft, and tarries long, Of the noble Count Arnaldos And the sailor's mystic song. I sendal : coarse narrow silken material.

Longfellow

Telling how the Count Arnaldos, With his hawk upon his hand, Saw a fair and stately galley, Steering onward to the land ;

How he heard the ancient helmsman Chant a song so wild and clear, That the sailing sea-bird slowly Poised upon the mast to hear,

Till his soul was full oflonging, And he cried, with impulse strong,Helmsman! for the love of heaven, Teach me, too, that wondrous song!

Wouldst thou, sothehelmsman answered, Learn the secret of the sea ?

Only those who brave its dangers Comprehend itsmystery!

In each sail that skims the horizon, In each landward-blowing breeze, I behold that'stately galley, Hear those mournful melodies .

Till my soul is full oflonging For the secret of the sea, And the heart ofthe great ocean Sends a thrilling pulse through me.

H. W. LONGFELLOW .

A Dutch Picture

Simon Danz has come home again, From cruising about with his buccaneers;' He has singed the beard ofthe King ofSpain, And carried away the Dean ofJaen, And sold him in Algiers.

Inhis housebytheMaese,with its roofoftiles, And weathercocks flying aloft in air, There are silver tankards in antique styles, Plunder of convent and castle, and piles Ofcarpets rich and rare.

s buccaneers : sea rovers, pirates.

b . W. Longfellow

In his tulip-gardenthere by the town, Overlooking the sluggish stream, With his Moorish cap and dressing-gown, The old sea-captain, hale and brown, Walks in a waking dream.

A smile in his grey mustachio lurks

Whenever he thinks ofthe King of Spain, And the listed' tulips look like Turks, And the silent gardener as he works Is changed to the Dean ofJaen.?

The windmills on the outermost Verge ofthe landscape in the haze, To him are towers on the Spanish coast, With whiskered sentinels at their post, Though this is the river Maese.

But when the winter rains begin, He sits and smokes by the blazing brands, And old seafaring men come in, Goat-bearded, grey, and with double chin, And rings upon their hands.

1 listed : striped . Jaen : a town in Spain .

They sit there in the shadow and shine

Of the flickering fire of the winter night; Figures in colour and design Like those by Rembrandt of the Rhine, Halfdarkness and half light.

And they talk ofventures lost or won, And their talk is ever and ever the same, While they drink the red wine ofTarragon, From the cellars of some Spanish Don, Or convent set on flame.

Restless at times, with heavy strides

He paces his parlour to and fro; He is like a ship that at anchor rides, And swings with the rising and falling tides, And tugs at her anchor-tow .

Voices mysterious far and near, Sound of the wind and sound of the sea , Are calling and whispering in his ear, Simon Danz! Why stayest thou here? Come forth and follow me!

h . W. Longfellow

So he thinks he shall take to the sea again For one more cruise with his buccaneers, To singe the beard ofthe King of Spain, And capture another Dean ofJaen, And sell him in Algiers.

H. W. LONGFELLOW .

Sea Memories

Often I think ofthe beautiful town That is seated by the sea; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets ofthat dear old town, And my youth comes back to me. And a verse ofa Lapland song Is haunting my memory still: A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I can see the shadowy lines ofits trees, And catch, in sudden gleams, The sheen ofthe far-surrounding seas, And islands that were the Hesperides " Ofall my boyish dreams. And the burden of that old song, It murmurs and whispers still:

A boy's will is the wind's will And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free; And the Spanish sailors with bearded lips, And the beauty and mystery ofthe ships, And the magic ofthe sea. And the voice of that wayward song Is singing and saying still: A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.

H. W. LONGFELLOW .

· Hesperides : the fabulous " Isles of the Blest " in far western seas .

Richard bovey

The Sea Gypsy

I am fever'd with the sunset, I am fretful with the bay, For the wander- thirst is on me And my soul is in Cathay.

There's a schooner in the offing, With her topsails shot with fire, And my heart has gone aboard her For the Islands of Desire .

I must forth again to-morrow ! With the sunset I must be Hull down on the trail of rapture In the wonder of the Sea .

RICHARD HOVEY .

The Greenwich Pensioner

'Twas in the good ship Rover, I sailed the world all round, And for three years and over I ne'er touched British ground;

At length in England landed, I left the roaring main, Found all relations stranded, And went to sea again, And went to sea again. That time bound straight for Portugal, Right fore and aft we bore, But when we made Cape Ortegal, A gale blew off the shore; She lay, so did it shock her, A log upon the main, Till, saved from Davy's locker, We put to sea again, We put to sea again.

Next sailing in a frigate I got my timber toe. I never more shall jig it

As once I used to do; My leg was shot off fairly, All by a ship of Spain; But I could swab the galley, I went to sea again, I went to sea again.

And still I am enabled

To bring up in the rear, Although I'm quitedisabled And lie in Greenwich tier. There's schooners in the river

A riding to the chain, But I shall never, ever Put out to sea again, Put out to sea again.

From A Sailor's Garland .

ThePress-Gang

Here's the tender coming, Pressing all the men; 0, dear honey, What shall we do then ? Here's the tender coming, Off at Shields Bar. Here's the tender coming, Full of men of war.

stender : a boat or other small vessel, that " attends" a ship with men , stores, etc.

Here's the tender coming, Stealing ofmy dear; 0, dear honey, They'll ship you out ofhere, They'll ship you foreign, For that is what it means. Here's the tender coming, Full of red marines .

From A Sailor's Garland .

A Sea Dirge

Full fathom five thy father lies: Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing ofhim that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them, Ding, dong, bell.

SHAKESPEARE .

2. ITS LAWLESS JOYS

The Old Buccaneer

Oh England is apleasantplacefor themthat's richandhigh,

But England is a cruel place for such poor folks as I; And such a port for mariners I ne'er shall see again

AsthepleasantIsleofAvès, besidetheSpanish main .

There were forty craft in Avès that were both swift and stout, Allfurnishedwellwithsmall armsandcannons round about;

And a thousand men in Avès made laws so fair and free

To choose their valiant captains and obey them loyally.

Thence we sailed against the Spaniard with his hoards ofplate and gold, Which he wrung with cruel tortures from Indian folk of old;

Charles kingsley

Likewise the merchant captains, with hearts as hard as stone, Whoflog men, and keel-haul them, and starve them to the bone .

Othe palmsgrewhigh in Avès, and fruits that shone like gold, And the colibris' and parrots they were gor geous to behold; And the negro maids to Avès from bondage fast did flee, Towelcomegallant sailors, a-sweeping in from sea .

O sweet it was in Avès to hear the landward breeze, A-swing with good tobacco in a net between thetrees, Withanegrolasstofan you, while you listened to the roar Ofthe breakers on the reefoutside, that never touched the shore . i colibris : humming -birds.

Charles kingsley

But Scripturesaith, anendingto allfinethings must be;

So the King's ships sailed on Avès, and quite put down were we.

All daywefoughtlikebulldogs, but theyburst the booms at night;

And I fled in a piragua,' sore wounded, from thefight.

Nine days I floated starving, and a negro lass beside, Till, forall I tried to cheerher, the pooryoung thing she died;

But as I lay a-gasping, a Bristol sail came by, And brought me home to England here, to beg until I die.

And now I'm old and going I'm sure I can't tellwhere;

One comfort is, this world's so hard, I can't be worse off there : piragua : a dug-out" canoe .

Charles kingsley

IfI might but be a sea-dove, I'd fly across the main, To the pleasant Isle of Avès, to look at it onceagain.

CHARLES KINGSLEY .

The Salcombe Seaman's Flaunt to the Proud Pirate

A lofty ship from Salcombe came, Blow high, blowlow, and so sailed we; She had golden trucks' that shone like flame, On the bonny coasts of Barbary. Masthead,masthead, the captains hail, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; Look out and round, d'ye see a sail? On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

There'sashipthatloomslikeBeachyHead," Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; Her banner aloft it blows out red, On the bonny coasts of Barbary. I trucks : mast -head caps.

"

Oh, ship ahoy, and where do Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; Areyou man -of-war, or privateer?

you steer?

On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

I am neither one ofthe two, said she, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; I'm a pirate, looking for my fee,' On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

I'm a jolly pirate, out for gold:" Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; I will rummage through your after hold, On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

The grumblingguns they flashed and roared, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; Till the pirate's masts went overboard, On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

They fired shots till the pirate's deck, Blow high, blow low , andso sailed we; Was blood and spars and broken wreck, On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

O do not haul the red flag down, Blow high, blow low , and so sailed we; O keep all fast until we drown, On the bonny coasts ofBarbary.

They called for cans ofwine, and drank, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; They sang their songs until she sank, On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

Now let us brew good cans offlip, Blow high, blow low , and so sailed we; And drink a bowl to the Salcombe ship, On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

And drink a bowl to the lad of fame, Blow high, blow low , and so sailed we; Who put the pirate ship to shame, On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

From A Sailor's Garland .

TheSmuggler

O my true love's a smuggler and sails upon the sea, And I would I were a seaman togo alongwith he; Togoalongwithheforthesatinsandthewine, And run the tubs at Slapton when the stars do shine .

O Hollands is a good drink when the nights arecold, And Brandyis agooddrinkforthemasgrows old . There is lights in the cliff-top when the boats are home-bound, And we runthetubs at Slaptonwhen theword goesround.

The King he is a proud man in his grand red coat, ButIdoloveasmugglerinalittlefishing-boat; For he runs the Mallins lace and he spends his money free, AndIwouldIwereaseamantogoalongwithhe. From A Sailor's Garland .

Armsand the Man

The generations pass, each in its turn wondering whether it is to be the one to see the ending of War and the awakening of the common sense of nations. But the Poetry of the glory of Battle, the hymning of high heroisms, the dirgesfor those who nobly died these will remain, to gild its memory, long after the last echo of the last war -drum has faded out of the world .

The Maid

Thunder of riotous hoofs over the quaking sod;

Clash ofreeking squadrons, steel-capped, iron shod;

The White Maid and the white horse, and the flapping banner ofGod.

Black hearts riding for money; red hearts riding for fame; The Maid who rides for France and the King who rides for shame

Gentlemen, fools, and a saint riding in Christ's highname!

184

Theodore Roberts

Dust to dust! itiswritten. Wind-scattered are lance and bow .

Dust, the Cross of Saint George; dust, the banner of snow . The bones of the King are crumbled, and rotted the shafts of the foe.

Forgotten, the young knight's valour; for gotten, the captain's skill; Forgotten, the fear and the hate and the mailed hands raised to kill; Forgotten, the 'shields that clashed and the arrows that cried so shrill.

Like a story from some old book, that battle oflong ago:

Shadows, the poor French King and the might ofhis English foe;

Shadows, the charging nobles and the archers kneelinga-row But a flame in my heart and my eyes, the Maid with herbanner ofsnow!

THEODORE ROBERTS .

The Eve of Waterloo

There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men .

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Did yenothearit?-No;'twasbutthewind, Orthe car rattling o'er thestony street; Onwith the dance! letjoy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet

To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.

Lord Byron

But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, Asiftheclouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm! it is it is the cannon's opening roar !

Within a window'd niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain ; he did hear That sound, the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with Death's pro pheticear; And when they smiled because he deem'd it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier, And rous'd the vengeance blood alone couldquell: Herush'dintothefield,and,foremost fighting, fell.

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveli ness ; And there were sudden partings, such as press

The life from out young hearts, and chok ingsighs Which ne'er might be repeated: who would guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes , Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise !

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clatter ingcar, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;

Lord Byron

And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Rous'd up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips The foe! they come! they come!

And wild and high the Camerons' gather ing rose, The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard,too, haveher Saxon foes :

How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills Savage and shrill! But with the breadth which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the moun taineers

With 'the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory ofa thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears !

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass , Grieving, ifaught inanimate e'ergrieves, Over the unreturning brave,-alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them , but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Ofliving valour, rolling on the foe, And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low .

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, the day Battle s magnificently stern array!

Lord Byron

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent

The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd andpent, Rider and horse,-friend, foe,-in one. red burialblent !

LORD BYRON .

The Glory that was Greece

I include this among the War Poems, because it is a call to a conquered nation to rise in arms againsttheir oppressors - a call that was in due course answered .

The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece !

Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts ofwar and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all except their sun is set.

The Scian and the Teian' muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse: Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires' Islands of the Blest."

The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea; And, musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free; For, standing on the Persian's grave, I could not deem myself a slave.

A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships by thousands lay below, And men in nations;-all were his! He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set, where were they? Scian and Teian : i.e. Homer and Anacreon .

Lord Byron

And where are they? and where art thou, My country ? On thy voiceless shore

The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?

'Tis something in the dearth offame, Though linked among the fettered race, To feel at least a patriot's shame, Even as I sing, suffuse my face; For what is left the poet here ? For Greeks a blush for Greece a tear !

Must we but weep o'er days more blest? Must we but blush ? Our fathers bled . Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant ofour Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylæ !

What, silent still? and silent all?

Ah ! no : the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, Let one living head, And answer,

But one arise, wecome, we come! 'Tis but the living who are dumb.

In vain - in vain; strike other chords; Fill high the cup with Samian wine! Leave battles to the Turkish hordes, And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! Hark! rising to the ignoble call, How answers each bold Bacchanal !

You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet; Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Oftwo such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one ? You have the letters Cadmus gave; Think ye he meant them for a slave?

Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! We will not think of themes like these! It made Anacreon's song divine: He served but served Polycrates: A tyrant; but our masters then Were still, at least, our countrymen.

194

Lord Byron

The tyrant of the Chersonese Was freedom's best and bravest friend; That tyrant was Miltiades!

Oh that the present hour would lend Another despot of the kind! Such chains as his were sure to bind .

Fillhighthebowl with Samianwine!

On Suli's rock and Parga's shore Exists the remnant of a line Such as the Doric mothers bore; And there, perhaps, some seed is sown The Heracleidan blood might own.

Trust not for freedom to the Franks

They have a king who buys and sells; In native swords and native ranks The only hope of courage dwells : But Turkish force and Latin fraud Would breakyour shield, however broad.

Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! Our virgins dance beneath the shade

Lord Byron 195

I see their glorious black eyes shine; But, gazing on each glowing maid, My own the burning tear-drop laves, To think such breasts must suckle slaves .

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing save the waves and I May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine Dash down yon cup ofSamian wine!

Battle Hymn of the American Republic

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord :

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes ofwrath are stored; He hath loosed the fatal lightning of his terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on.

196

Julia Ward bowe

I have seenhim in the watch -fires ofa hundred circlingcamps; Theyhavebuildedhim analtarintheevening dews and damps;

I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps: His day is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; He is siftingout the hearts of men before his JudgmentSeat;

O be swift, my soul to answer Him , be jubilant myfeet! Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born, across the sea, With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me:

As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.

JULIA WARD HOWE.

Richard Lovelace

To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars

Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Ofthy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more.

The Black Prince

O for the voice of that wild horn, On Fontarabian echoes borne, The dying hero's call, That told imperial Charlemagne How Paynim sons ofswarthy Spain Had wrought his champion's fall.

198 Sir Walter Scott

Sad over earth and ocean sounding, And England's distant cliffs astounding, Such are the notes should say How Britain's hope, and France's fear, Victor ofCressy and Poitier, In Bordeaux dying lay.

Raise my faint head, my squires, he said, And let the casement be displayed, That I may see once more The splendour ofthe setting sun Gleam on thy mirrored wave, Garonne, And Blay's empurpled shore.

" Like me, he sinks to Glory's sleep, His fall the dews of evening steep, As if in sorrow shed . So soft shall fall the trickling tear, When England's maids and matrons hear Of their Black Edward dead.

And though my sun ofglory set, Nor France nor England shall forget The terror ofmy name;

Sir Walter Scott 199

And oft shall Britain's heroes rise, New planets in these southern skies, Through clouds of blood and flame.

The Burial of Sir John Moore

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him darkly at dead ofnight, The sods with our bayonets turning, By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him .

Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word ofsorrow;

Charles Wolfe

But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought ofthe morrow .

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed And smooth'd down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the strangerwould tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow !

Lightly they'll talk ofthe spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But halfofour heavy task was done When the clock struckthe hourforretiring; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.

How Sleep the Brave

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest

By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless that turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!

WILLIAM COLLINS.

Soldier, Rest !

Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking! Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights ofwaking.

Sir Walter scott

In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains ofmusic fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Dream offighting fields nomore; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night ofwaking.

No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan , or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come

At the daybreak from the fallow , And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow . Ruder sounds shall none be near , Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping.

Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; While our slumbrous spells assail ye,

Dream not, with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveillé. Sleep! the deer is in his den; Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying.

Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,, Think not ofthe rising sun, For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveillé.

SIR WALTER Scott .

The Other Side of it

I. The Patriot

It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad: The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway, The church-spires flamed, such flags they had, A year ago on this very day.

The air broke into a mist with bells,, The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries .

Had I said, Good folk, mere noise repels But give me your sun from yonder skies! They had answered, And afterward, what else ?

Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun To give it my loving friends to keep! 204

Nought man could do, have I left undone: And you see myharvest, what I reap This very day, now a year is run.

There's nobody on the house-tops now Just a palsied few at the windows set; For the best of the sight is, all allow, At the Shambles' Gateor, better yet, By the very scaffold's foot, I trow .

A I go in the rain, and, more than needs, rope cuts both my wrists behind; And I think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds, For they Aling, whoever has a mind, Stones at me for my year's misdeeds.

Thus I entered, and thus I go! In triumphs, people have dropped down dead, Paid by the world, what dost thou owe Me? God might question; now instead, 'Tis God shall repay: I am safer so.

2. For Those Who Fail

All honour to him who shall win the prize, The world has cried for a thousand years ; But to him who tries and who fails and dies, I give great honour and glory and tears.

O great is the herowho wins a name, But greater many and many a time Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame, And lets God finish the thought sublime.

And great is the man with a sword undrawn, Andgood isthemanwhorefrainsfromwine; But the man who fails and yet fights on, Lo he is the twin -born brother of mine!

3. Keeping on

Say not the struggle nought availeth, The labour and the wounds are vain, not, nor faileth, And as things have been they remain. faints Theenemy

A. h. Clough

Ifhopes were dupes, fears may be liars; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful înch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly! But westward, look, the land is bright!

A.

Story-poems

The Lady of Shalott I

On either side the river lie Long fields ofbarley and of rye , That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And through the field the road runs by To many-towered Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle embowers The Lady of Shalott. 208

Lord Tennyson 209

By the margin, willow -veild, Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd Skimming down to Camelot: But who has seen her wave her hand ? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot: And by moon the reaper weary,, Piling sheaves in upland airy, Listening, whispers, 'Tis the fairy LadyofShalott. II

There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay

Lord Tennyson

To look down to Camelot . She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot: There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village-churls, And the red cloaks ofmarket girls, Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop ofdamsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, Or a long-hair'd page in crimson clad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot: And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often through the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot: Or, when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed; I am half sick of shadows, said The Lady of Shalott.

III

A bow -shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves' Of bold Sir Lancelot .

A red -cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field Beside remote Shalott .

* greaves : leg -armour below the knee.

Lord Tennyson

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy.' The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down to Camelot : And from his blazon'd baldricº slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armourrung, Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet - feather Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down to Camelot . As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over still Shalott .

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

* Galaxy : the Milky Way . " a blazon'd baldric : a broad shoulder -belt painted heraldically .

Tennyson

From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot .

From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, Tirra lirra, by the river Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room , She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; The curse is come upon me, cried The Lady of Shalott. IV

In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining

Lord Tennyson

Over tower'd Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And round about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott. And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance With a glassy countenance Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing ofthe day She loosed the chain and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed insnowywhite That looselyflewtoleftand right Theleaves uponherfallinglight Thro the noises ofthe night She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darken'd wholly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reached upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot . Out upon the wharfs they came , Knight and burgher,'lord and dame, And round the prow they read hername, The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this ? and what is here ? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross'd themselves for fear, burgher : citizen .

Lord Tennyson

All the knights at Camelot: But Lancelot mused a little space;

He said, She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."

ALFRED , LORD TENNYSON .

The Forsaken Merman

Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below . brothers call from the bay; Now the great winds shoreward blow; Now the salt tides seaward flow ; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away. This way , this way!

Now my

Call her once before you go Call once yet!

In a voice that she will know : Margaret! Margaret!"

Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear;

Children's voices, wild with pain Surely she will come again ! Call her once and come away. This way, this way!!

Mother dear, we cannot stay!

The wild white horses foam and fret. Margaret! Margaret!

Come, dear children, come away down. Call no more . One last look at the white-wall'd town, Andthelittlegreychurchonthewindyshore. Then come down .

She will not come though you call all day. Come away, come away!

Children dear, was it yesterday

We heard the sweet bells over the bay?

In the caverns where we lay, Through the surfand through the swell, The far -off sound of a silver bell ? Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,

Matthew Arnold

Where the winds are all asleep;

Where the spent lights quiver and gleam ; Where the salt weed sways in the stream ; Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round, Feed in the ooze oftheir pasture-ground; Where the sea -snakes coil and twine, Dry their mail and bask in the brine;

Where great whales come sailing by, Sail and sail, with unshut eye, Round the world for ever and aye? When did music come this way?

Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away?

Once she sate with you and me ,

On a red gold throne in the heart ofthe sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She combed its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound ofa far-off bell. She sigh d, she look'd up through the clear green sea ;

She said: I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the shore to-day. ' Twill be Easter-time in the world ah me! And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee .

I said, Goup,dear heart,through thewaves; Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea -caves . She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, were we long alone?

The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.

Long prayers, I said, in the world they say . Come! I said, andwe rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white walled town .

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still, To the little grey church on the windy hill.

mattbew Brnolb

From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, But westood without in thecold blowing airs. We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes. She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: "Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here! Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone. Theseagrowsstormy,thelittleonesmoan."

But, ah! she gave me never a look, For her eyes were sealed to the holy book.

Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door. Come away, children, call no more. Come away, come down, call no more.

Down, down, down, Down to the depths of the sea! She sits at her wheel in the humming town, 'Singing most joyfully. Hark what she sings: "O joy, 0 joy, Forthe humming street, and thechild with its toy!

2

Forthepriest, and thebell, and theholywell; For the wheel where I spun , And the blessed light ofthe sun! And so she sings her fill. Singing most joyfully, Till the spindle drops from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still. Shestealstothewindowand looks at the sand, And over the sand at the sea ; And her eyes are set in a stare; And anon there breaks a sigh, And anon there drops a tear, From a sorrow -clouded eye, And a heart sorrow -laden, A long, long sigh For the cold strange eyes of a little Mer maiden And the gleam ofher golden hair.

Come away, away, children! Come children, come down! The hoarse wind blows coldly; Lights shine in the town. She will start from her slumber

When gusts shake the door; She will hear the winds howling, Will hear the waves roar. We shall see, while above us The waves roar and whirl, A ceiling of amber, A pavement ofpearl. Singing: Here came a mortal, But faithless was she : And alone dwell for ever The kings of the sea.

But, children, at midnight, When soft the winds blow, When clear falls the moonlight, When spring-tides are low: When sweet airs come seaward From heaths starr'd with broom; And high rocks throw mildly On the blanch'd sands a gloom: Up the still, glistening beaches, Up the creeks we will hie, Over banks ofbright seaweed The ebb-tide leaves dry.

We will gaze, from the sand-hills, At the white, sleeping town; At the church on the hill- side And then come back down .

Singing: There dwells a loved one, But cruel is she . She left lonely for ever The kings of the sea.

MATTHEW ARNOLD .

The Legend Beautiful

Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled ! That is what the Vision said.

In his chamber all alone, Kneeling on the floor ofstone, Prayed the Monk indeep contrition For his sins ofindecision, Prayed for greater self-denial In temptation and in trial; It was noonday by the dial, And the Monk was all alone .

b. 1tUl. 1ongfellow

Suddenly,asifitlighten'd, Anunwontedsplendourbrighten'd Allwithinhimandwithouthim Inthatnarrowcellofstone; AndhesawtheBlessedVision OfourLord,withlightElysian1 Likeavesturewrappedabouthim, Likeagarmentroundhimthrown.

Notascrucifiedandslain, Notinagoniesofpain, Notwithbleedinghandsandfeet, DidtheMonkhisMastersee; Butasinthevillagestreet, Inthehouseorharvest-field, Haltandlameandblindhehealed, WhenhewalkedinGalilee.

Inanattitudeimploring, Handsuponhisbosomcrossed, Wondering,worshipping:adoring, KnelttheMonkinrapturelost.

•F.lysian: heavenly.

b. w. Longfellow

Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest, Who am I, that thus thou deignest To reveal thyself to me?

Who am I, that from the centre Ofthy glory thou shouldst enter Thispoor cell, my guest to be?

Then amid his exaltation, Loud the convent bell appalling, From its belfry calling, calling, Rang through court and corridor With persistent iteration He had never heard before. It was now the appointed hour When alike in sun or shower, Winter's cold or summer's heat, To the convent portals came All the blind and halt and lame, All the beggars ofthe street,

For their daily dole offood Dealt them by the brotherhood; And their almoner ' was he Who upon his bended knee,

* Almoner : giver of alms or charity.

b. UUl. 1ongfellow

Rapt in silent ecstasy

Of divinest self-surrender, Saw the Vision and the Splendour. Deep distress and hesitation Mingled with his adoration; Should he go or should he stay? Should he leave the poor to wait Hungry at the convent gate, Till the Vision passed away? Should he slight his radiant guest, Slight his visitant celestial, For a crowd of ragged, bestial Beggars at the convent gate? Would the Vision there remain? Would the Vision come again?

Then a voice within his breast

Whispered, audible and clear, As if to the outward ear: "Do thy duty; that is best; Leave unto thy Lord the rest!" Straightway to his feet he started,

b. UlL 1ongfellow

And with longing look intent

On the Blessed Vision bent, Slowly from his cell departed, Slowly on his errand went.

At the gate the poor were waiting, Looking through the iron grating, With that terror in the eye That is only seen in those Who amid their wants and woes Hear the sound of doors that close, And of feet that pass them by; Grown familiar with disfavour, Grown familiar with the savour

Of the bread by which men die! But to-day, they knew not why, Like the gate of Paradise Seemed the convent gate to rise, Like a sacrament divine Seemed to them the bread and wine. In his heart the Monk was praying, Thinking of the homeless poor, What they suffer and endure; What we see not, what we see;

b. 1111l. 1ongfellow

And the inward voice was saying: "Whatsoever thing thou doest To the least of mine and lowest, That thou doest unto me!"

Unto me!but had the Vision Come to him in beggar's clothing, Come a mendicant imploring, Would he then have knelt adoring, Or have listened with derision, And have turned away with loathing?

Thus his conscience put the question, Full of troublesome suggestion, As at length, with hurried pace, Towards his cell he turned his face, And beheld the convent bright With a supernatural light, Like a luminous cloud expanding Over floor and wall and ceiling.

But he paused with awe-struck feeling At the threshold ofhis door, For the Vision still was standing

As he left it there before, When the convent bell appalling, From its belfry calling, calling, Summoned him to feed the poor. Through the long hour intervening It had waited his return, And he felt his bosom burn, Comprehending all the meaning, When the Blessed Vision said, Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled! H. W. LONGFELLOW .

Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw , within the moonlight in his room , Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book ofgold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, What writest thou ? The vision rais'd its head,

230 Leigh bunt

And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answer'd, The namesof those that love the Lord. And is mine one? said Abou. Nay, not so, Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,, But cheerly still; and said, I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow men. The angelwrote,andvanished. Thenextnight It came again with a greatwakening light, And show'd the names whom love of God had blest, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

LEIGH HUNT .

The Sands of Dee

" O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee;" The western wind was wild and dank with foam , And all alone went she .

Charles kingsley 231

The western tide crept up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see. The rolling mist came down and hid the land : And never home came she .

O is it weed, or fish, or floating hair A tress ofgolden hair, A drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea ? Was never salmon yet that shone so fair Among the stakes ofDee.

They rowed her in across the rolling foam , The cruel crawling foam , The cruel hungry foam , Toher grave beside the sea.. But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee.

CHARLES KINGSLEY .

Lochinvar

0 young Lochinvar is come out ofthe west, Through all thewide Border his steed was the best, And save his good broad-sword he weapons had none;

He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Loch invar . Hestay'dnotforbrake, andhestopp'd notfor stone, He swam the Esk River where ford there was none ; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Loch invar.

Sir Walter Scott 233

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Amongbride's-men and kinsmen, and brothers and all : Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word ), O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Loch invar ?

I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied : Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide

And now I am come, with this lost love of mine

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine . There are maidens in Scotland more lovelyby far, Thatwouldgladlybebridetotheyoung Loch invar. '

234

Sir Walter Scott

The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup; She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye .

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, Now tread we ameasure!" said young Loch invar.

So stately his form , and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard' did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, Andthebridegroomstooddanglinghisbonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whisper'd, 'Twere better by fa To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinyar . igalliard : a gay dance .

Sir Walter Scott 235

One touchto her hand and one word inherear, When they reach'd the hall door and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung So light to the saddle before her he sprung! She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ;' They'll have feet steedsthat follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves,they rode and they ran:

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost brideofNetherby ne'er didthey see . So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Haveye e'erheardofgallant like young Loch invar ?

SIR WALTER SCOTT .

I scaur : a steep bank .

Day-Dreams

This section will appeal to girls rather than to boys. And yet day-dreams are no bad thingsfor either sex just now and again, as a getting away from realities.

Dreams to Sell

If there were dreams to sell, What would you buy?

Some cost a passing bell; Some a light sigh, That shakes from Life's fresh crown Only a rose-leaf down. If there were dreams to sell, Merry and sad to tell, And the crier rang the bell, What would you buy?

A cottage lone and still, With bowers nigh, Shadowy, my woes to still, Until I die .

T. L. Beddoes

Such pearl from Life's fresh crown Fain would I shake me down . Were dreams to have at will, This would best heal my ill, This would I buy.

T. L. BEDDOES.

The Lost Bower

In the pleasant orchard closes, God bless all our gains, say we; But May God bless all our losses, Better suits with our degree. Listengentle ay,and simple!Listen children on the knee !

Green the land is where my daily Steps in jocund childhood played Dimpled close with hill and valley, Dappled very close with shade; Summer-snow of apple blossoms, running up from glade to glade.

E. B. Browning

There is one hill I see nearer, In my vision of the rest; And a little wood seems clearer, As it climbeth from the west, Sideway from the tree-locked valley, to the airy upland crest.

Small the wood is, green with hazels, And, completing the ascent, Where the wind blows and sun dazzles Thrills in leafy tremblement: Like a heart that, after climbing, beateth quickly through content.

Not a step the wood advances O er the open hill-top's bound: There, in green arrest, the branches See their image on the ground: You may walk between them smiling, glad with sight and glad with sound.

For you hearken on your right hand, How the birds do leap and call In the greenwood, out ofsight and

E. B. Browning

Out of reach and fear of all; And the squirrels crack the filberts, through their cheerful madrigal.

On yourleft, the sheep are cropping The slant grass and daisies pale; And five apple-trees stand, dropping Separate shadows toward the vale, Overwhich, inchoral silence, thehillslook you their All hail !

Yet in childhood little prized I That fair walk and far survey:

'Twas a straight walk, unadvised by The least mischiefworth a nay Up and down as dull as grammar on an eve ofholiday!

But the wood, all close and clenching Bough in bough and root in root,No more sky (for over-branching)

At your head than at your foot,Oh, thewood drew mewithin it, by aglamour past dispute.

E. B. Browning

Few and broken paths showed through it, Where the sheep had tried to run, Forced with snowy wool to strew it Round the thickets, when anon They with silly thorn-pricked noses bleated back into the sun.

But my childish heart beat stronger Than those thickets dared to grow: I could pierce them! I could longer Travel on, methought, than so! Sheep for sheep-paths! braver children climb and creep where they would go.

On a day, such pastime keeping, With a fawn's heart debonair, Under-crawling, overleaping Thornsthatprickandboughsthatbear, I stood suddenly astonished I wasgladdened unaware !

From the place I stood in, floated Back the covert dim and close; And the open ground was suited

E. B. Browning

Carpet-smooth with grass and moss,, And the blue-bell's purple presence signed it worthily across.

'Twas a bower for garden fitter, Than for any woodland wide!

Though a fresh and dewy glitter Struck it through, from side to side, Shaped and shaven was the freshness, as by garden-cunning plied.

Rose-trees, either side the door, were Growing lithe and growing tall; Each one set a summer warder

For the keeping of the hall, With a red rose, and a white rose, leaning, nodding at the wall.

As I entered -mosses hushing Stole all noises from my foot : And a round elastic cushion, Clasped within the linden's root, Took me in a chair of silence, very rare and absolute .

E. B. Browning

So, young muser, I sat listening To my Fancy's wildest word

On a sudden, through the glistening Leaves around, a little stirred, Came a sound, a sense of music, which was rather felt than heard .

Softly, finely, it inwound me

From the world it shut me in, Like a fountain falling round me, Which with silver waters thin Clips a little marble Naiad, sitting smilingly within .

Whence the music came, who knoweth ? I know nothing. But indeed Pan or Faunus never bloweth So much sweetness from a reed Which has sucked the milk of waters, at the oldest river -head .

Never lark the sun can waken With such sweetness! when the lark, The high planets overtaking

E. B. Browning

In the half-evanished Dark, Casts his singing to their singing, like an arrow to the mark .

Never nightingale so singeth Oh! she leans on thorny tree, And her poet-soul she flingeth Over pain to victory! Yet she never sings such music,-or she sings it not to me !

Never blackbirds, never thrushes, Nor small finches sing as sweet, Whenthesunstrikesthroughthebushes

To their crimson clinging feet, And their pretty eyes look sideways to the summer heavens complete.

In a child-abstraction lifted, Straightway from the bower I passed; Foot and soul being dimly drifted Through the greenwood, till, at last, Inthehill-top'sopensunshine, I allconsciously was cast .

E. B. Browning

And I said within me, laughing, I have found a bower to-day, A green lusus_fashioned half in Chance, and halfin Nature's play And alittlebird sings nighit, I will nevermore missay. Henceforth, I will be the fairy Of this bower, not built by one; I will go there, sad or merry, With each morning's benison; And the bird shall be myharper in the dream hall I have won.

So I said. But the next morning, (Child, look up into my face 'Ware,O sceptic, ofyour scorning! This is truth in its pure grace;) The next morning, all had vanished, or my wandering missed the place.

Day by day, with new desire, Toward my wood I ran in faith Under leaf and over brier

* lusus : a sport, a freak .

E. B. Browning 245

Through the thickets, out ofbreath Like the prince who rescued Beauty from the sleep as long as death. But his sword ofmettle clashed, And his arm smote strong, I ween; And her dreaming spirit flashed Through her body's fair white screen, And the light thereofmight guide him up the cedarn alleys green.

But for me, I saw no splendour All my sword was my child-heart; And the wood refused surrender Of that bower it held apart, Safe as dipus's grave-place, 'mid Colone's olives swart.

I have lost - oh many a pleasure Many a hope, and many a power Studious health and merry leisure The first dew on the first flower ! But the first of all my losses was the losing of the bower.

E. B. Browning

All my losses did I tell you , Ye, perchance, would look away ; Ye would answer me, Farewell!you Make sad company to-day; And your tears are falling faster than the bitterwords you say.

For God placed me like a dial In the open ground, with power; And my heart had for its trial, All the sun and all the shower ! And I suffered many losses; and my first was of the bower.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING . Echo and the Ferry

Ay, Oliver! I was but seven, and he was eleven; He looked at me pouting and rosy. I blushed where I stood . Theyhad told us toplayin theorchard (and I only seven!

Jean Ingelow 247

A small guest at the farm ); but he said, Oh, a girl was no good,' So he whistled and went, he went over the stile to the wood .

It was sad, it was sorrowful! Only a girl onlyseven!

At home in the dark London smoke I had not found it out.

The pear trees looked on in their white, and blue birds flashed about; And they too were angry as Oliver. Were they eleven?

I thought so. Yes, everyone elsewas eleven -eleven !

So Oliver went, but the cowslips were tall at myfeet, And all the white orchard with fast-falling blossom was littered, And under and over the branches those little birds twittered, While hanging head downwards they scolded because I was seven.

248 Jean Ingelow

A pity. A very great pity. One should be eleven .

But soon I was happy, the smell of the world was so sweet . And I saw a round hole in an apple-tree rosy and old . Then I knew! for I peeped, and I felt it was right they should scold! Eggs small and eggs many. For gladness I broke into laughter; And then some one else- oh, how softly!came after, came after With laughter- with laughter came after.

So this was the country; clear dazzle of azure and shiver Andwhisperofleaves, and ahummingallover the tall White branches, a humming of bees. And I came to the wall A little low wall and looked over, and there was the river, The lane that led on to the village, and then the sweet river.

Clear-shining and slow, she had far far to go from her snow ;

Buteach rushgleamed aswordinthesunlight to guard her long flow, And she murmured methought, with a speech verysoft, very low

The ways will be long, but the days will be long," quoth the river, To me a long liver, long, long!" quoth the river - the river.

I dreamed of the country that night, of the orchard, the sky, The voice that had mocked coming after and over and under.

But at last-in a day or two namely - Eleven and I Were very fast friends, and to him I confided the wonder. He said that was Echo . Was Echo a wise kind of bee

That had learned howtolaugh: could it laugh in one's ear and then fly,

250 Jean Ingelow

And laugh again yonder? No; Echo -he whispered it low

Was awoman, theysaid, but awomanwhom no one could see And no one could find; and he did not believe it, not he, But he could not get near for the river that held us asunder .

Yet I that had money - a shilling, a whole silver shilling

WemightcrossifI thought I would spendit.' Oh yes, I was willing"

And we ran hand in hand, we ran down to the ferry, the ferry,

And we heard how she mocked at the folk with a voice clear and merry

When they called for the ferry; but oh! she was very -- was very Swift-footed. She spoke and was gone; and when Oliver cried, Hie over! hie over! you man of the ferry the ferry!"

Bythe stillwater's side she was heard farand wide she replied,

Jean Ingelow

And she mocked in her voice sweet and merry You man ofthe ferry, You man of- you man ofthe ferry!

Hieover! he shouted. Theferryman came at his calling, Across the clear reed -bordered river he ferried us fast; Such a chase! Hand in hand, foot to foot, we ran on; it surpassed All measure her doubling - so close, then so far away falling, Then gone, and no more. Oh! to see her but once unaware , And themouththathadmocked, butwemight not (yet sure she was there!) Nor behold her wild eyes and her mystical countenance fair.

Wesoughtinthewood,andwefoundthewood wren in her stead; In the field, andwe found but the cuckoo that talked overhead;

252 Jean Ingelow

By the brook, and we found the reed-sparrow deep-nested, in brown Not Echo, fair Echol for Echo, sweet Echo! was flown.

Sowecametotheplacewherethedeadpeople wait till God call . The church was among them, grey moss over roof, over wall. Very silent, so low. And we stood on a green grassy mound And looked in at awindow, for Echo, perhaps, in her round

Might have come in to hide there. But no; every oak carven seat Was empty. We saw the great Bible- old, old, very old, And the parson's great Prayer-book beside it; we heard the slow beat Of the pendulum swing in the tower; we saw the clear gold Of a sunbeam float down to the aisle and then waver and play

On the low chancel step and the railing, and Oliver said, Look, Katie! Look, Katie! when Lettice came here to be wed

She stood where that sunbeam drops down, and all white was her gown; And she stepped upon flowers they strewed Then quoth small Seven, Shall I wear a white gown and have flowers to walk upon ever?

for her.

All doubtful: It takes a long time to grow up, quoth Eleven; You're so little, you know, and the church is so old, it can never

Last on till you're tall. And in whispers because it was old, And holy, and fraught with strange meaning, halffelt, but not told, Full of old parsons' prayers, who were dead, of old days, ofold folk Neither heard nor beheld, but about us, in whispers we spoke. Then we went from it softly, and ran hand in hand to the strand,

254 Jean ngelow

While bleatingofflocks and birds piping made sweeter the land, And Echo came back e'en as Oliver drew to the ferry, O Katie! O Katie! Come on, then! Come on, then ! For, see, Theroundsun, all red,lyinglowbythetree by the tree.

By the tree. Ay, she mocked him again, with her voice sweet and merry: Hie over ! Hie over! You man of the ferry _"the ferry." Youmanoftheferry youmanof youman of the ferry."

Ay, here it was here that we woke her, the Echo of old; All life of that day seems an echo, and many times told . ShallI crossbytheferryto-morrow, and come in my white To that little old church ? and will Oliver meet me anon ?

Will it all seem an echo from childhood passed over- passed on? Will the grave parson bless us? Hark, hark! in the dim failing light

I hear her! As then the child's voice clear and high, sweet and merry

Now she mocks the man's tone with Hie over! Hie over the ferry! And Katie . And Katie. Art out with the glowwormsto-night, My Katie?" "My Katie. For gladness I break into laughter

And tears. Then it all comes again as from far-wayyears;

Again, some one else Oh, how softly ! with laughtercomes after, Comes after with laughter comes after.

1 Poor Susan's Dream

JEAN INGELOW .

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears , Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for threeyears:

william Wordsworth

Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard

In the silence of morning the song of the bird .

'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees

A mountain ascending, a vision oftrees; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a riverflowson through thevaleof Cheap side .

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale Down which she so often has tripp'd with her pail; And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.

She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade, The mist and the river, the hill and the shade;

The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH .

Fancy

Tell me where is Fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply.

It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed; and Fancy dies In the cradle where it lies . Let us all ring Fancy's knell: I'll begin it,-Ding, dong, bell. Ding, dong, bell.

SHAKESPEARE .

Two home-Comings

1. The Good Woman Made Welcome in Heaven

Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee, Glad at their own home now to meet thee. All thy good works which went before, And waited for thee at the door, Shall own thee there; and all in one Weave a constellation Of crowns, with which the King, thy spouse, Shall build up thy triumphant brows.

-All thy old woes shall now smile on thee, And thy pains sit bright upon thee: All thy sorrows here shall shine, And thy sufferings be divine.

Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems, And wrongs repent to diadems. Even thy deaths shall live, and new Dress the soul which late thy slew . Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scars As keep account ofthe Lamb's wars.

2. The Soldier Relieved

I'd like now, yet had haply been afraid, To have just looked, when this man came to die, And seen who lined the clean gay garret sides, And stood about the neat low truckle-bed, With the heavenly manner ofrelieving guard. Here had been, mark, the general-in-chief, Thro' awhole campaign oftheworld'slife and death, Doing the King's work all the dim day long, In his old coat and up to knees in mud, Smoked like a herring, dining on a crust, And, now the day was won, relieved at once! No further show or need of that old coat , You are sure, for one thing! Bless us, all the while How sprucely we are dressed out, you and I! A second, and the angels alter that.

when knights were Bold

Hunting Song

Waken, lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the day, All thejolly chase is here, With horse, and hawk, and hunting spear! Hounds are in their couples yelling, Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling. " Merrily, merrily, mingle they, Waken, lords and ladies gay.

Waken, lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain grey, Springlets in the dawn are steaming, Diamonds on the brake· are gleaming, And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green; Now we come to chant our lay, Waken, lords and ladies gay. knelling : sounding like a bell . a brake : fern , bracken . 260

Waken, lords and ladies gay, To the greenwood haste away; We can show you where he lies, Fleet of foot, and tall of size; We can show the marks he made When 'gainst the oak his antlers' frayed; You shall see him brought to bay; Waken, lords and ladies gay.

Louder, louder chant the lay, Waken, lords and ladies gay! Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee, Run a course as well as we; Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk, Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk? Think ofthis, and rise with day, Gentle lords and ladies gay!

SIR WALTER SCOTT .

The Riding to the Tournament

Over meadows purple-flowered, Through the dark lanes oak-embowered, i antlers : horns.

6. w . Thornbury

Over commons dry and brown, Through the silent red -roofed town, Past the reapers and the sheaves, Over white roads strewn with leaves, By the gipsy's ragged tent, Rode we to the Tournament.

Over clover wet with dew, Whence the sky-lark, startled, flew, Through brown fallows, where the hare Leapt up from its subtle lair, Past the mill-stream and the reeds

Where the stately heron feeds, By the warren's sunny wall, Where the dry leaves shake and fall, By the hall's ancestral trees, Bent and writhing in the breeze, Rode we all with one intent, Gaily to the Tournament.

Golden sparkles, flashing gem, Lit the robes of each of them, Cloak ofvelvet, robe of silk, Mantle snowy-white as milk,

6. W. Thornbury 263

Rings upon our bridle-hand, Jewels on our belt and band, Bells upon our golden reins, Tinkling spurs and shining chains

In such merry mob we went Riding to the Tournament.

Laughing voices, scraps of song , Lusty music loud and strong, Rustling ofthe banners blowing, Whispers as ofrivers flowing. Whistle ofthe hawkswe bore As they rise and as they soar, Now and then a clash of drums

As the rabble louder hums, Now and then a burst of horns Sounding over brooks and bourns,

As in merry guise we went Riding to the Tournament.

There were abbots fat and sleek, Nuns in couples, pale and meek, Jugglers tossing cups and knives, Yeoman with their buxom wives,

6. w . Thornbury

Pages playing with the curls Ofthe rosy village girls, Grizzly knights with faces scarred, Staring through theirvizors barred, Huntsmen cheering with a shout At the wild stag breaking out, Harper, stately as a king, Touching now and then a string,

As our revel laughing went To the solemn Tournament.

Chargerwith the massy chest, Foam-spots flecking mane and breast, Pacing stately, pawing ground, Fretting for the trumpet's sound, White and sorrel, roan and bay, Dappled, spotted, black, and grey, Palfreys snowy as the dawn, Ponies sallow as the fawn, All together neighing went Trampling to the Tournament.

Long hair scattered in the wind, Curls that flew a yard behind, Flags that struggled like a bird

Chained and restive - not a word But halfburied in a laugh; And the lance's gilded staff Shaking when the bearer shook

At the jester's merry look, As he grins upon his mule, Like an urchin leaving school, Shaking bauble, tossing bells, At the merry jest he tells,So in happy mood we went, Laughing to the Tournament.

What a bustle at the inn, What a stir, without- within; Filling flagons, brimming bowls

For a hundred thirsty souls; Froth insnow -flakes flowing down,

From the pitcher big and brown, While the tankards brim and bubble With the balm for human trouble; How the maiden coyly sips, How the yeoman wipes his lips, How the old knight drains the cup

Thornbury

Slowly and with calmness up, And the abbot, with a prayer, Fills the silver goblet rare, Praying to the saints for strength As he holds it at arm's length; How the jester spins the bowl On his thumb, then quaffs the whole; How the pompous steward bends And bows to half-a-dozen friends, As in a thirsty mood we went Duly to the Tournament.

Then again the country over Through the stubble and the clover, By the crystal-dropping springs, Where the road dust clogs and clings To the pearl-leafof the rose, Where the tawdry nightshade blows, And the bramble twines its chains Through the sunny village lanes, Where the thistle sheds its seed, And the goldfinch loves to feed, By the milestone green with moss,

G. W. Thornbury 267

By the brokenwayside cross, In a merry band we went Shouting to the Tournament.

Pilgrims with their hood and cowl, Pursy burghers cheek by jowl, Archers with their peacock's wing Fitting to the waxen string, Pedlars with their pack and bags, Beggars with their coloured rags, Silent monks, whose stony eyes Rest in trance upon the skies, Children sleeping at the breast, Merchants from the distant West, All in gay confusion went To the royal Tournament.

Players with the painted face And a drunken man's grimace, Grooms who praise their raw -boned steeds, Old wives telling maple beads, Blackbirds from the hedges broke, Black crows from the beeches croak, Glossy swallows in dismay

6. W. Thornbury

From the mill-stream fled away, The angry swan, with ruffled breast, Frowned upon her osier nest, Thewren hopped restlesson the brake, The otter made the sedges shake, The butterfly before our rout Flew like a blossom blown about, The coloured leaves, aglobe of life, Spun round and scattered as in strife, Sweeping down the narrowlane Like the slant shower of the rain, The lark in terror, from the sod, Flewup and straight appealedtoGod,

As a noisy band we went Trottingto theTournament.

But when we saw the holy town, With its river and its down, Then the drums began to beat And the flutes piped mellow sweet; Then the deep and full bassoon Murmured like a wood in June, And the fifes, so sharp and bleak,

6. wa. Thornbury 269

All at once began to speak. Hear the trumpets clear and loud, Full-tongued, eloquent and proud, And the dulcimer that ranges Through such wild and plaintive changes; Merry sounds the jester's shawm, To our gladness giving form ; And the shepherd's chalumeau,» Rich and soft and sad and low; Hark! the bagpipes squeak and groan Every herdsman has his own; So in measured step we went Pacing to the Tournament.

1

All at once the chimes break out, Then we hear the townsmen shout, And the morris -dancers' bells Tinkling in the grassy dells; The bell thunder from the tower Adds its sound of doom and power, As the cannon's loud salute For a moment made us mute; Ishawm : reed pipe. a chalumeau : reed pipe.

Then again the laugh and joke

On the startled silence broke; Thus in merry mood we went Laughing to the Tournament. G. W. THORNBURY .

Warious

A Red, Red Rose

O, my love is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O, my love is like the melody That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I,

And I will love thee still, my dear, Till all the seas gang' dry.

Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun !

And I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run .

And fare thee well, my only love, And fare thee well a while!

And I will come again, my love, Tho ' it were ten thousand mile !

ROBERT BURNS . gang : go .

Blow, Bugle, Blow

The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow, set thewild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going!

O sweet and far from cliff and scar' The horns of Elfand faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. richsky,

O love, they die in yon They faint onhill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.

* scar : a crag, a precipice.

Lord Tennyson 273

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

ALFRED , LORD TENNYSON .

West and East

Rome is chiefly known to young readers through the medium of Macaulay's spirited " Lays, which , however, areonly a re-telling, in English balladform, of some of the legends which survived into historical times concerning the infant city, about which nothing certain is known . TheygivenoideaoftheRomeofhistory, theworld-power, or of the brooding immensity of her influence through centuries. This and the following poem illustrate, to some slight extent, the later Rome .

In his cool hall, with haggard eyes, The Roman noble lay; He drove abroad, in furious guise, Along the Appian way.

He made a feast, drank fierce and fast, And crown'd his hair with flowers , No easier nor no quicker pass'd The impracticable hours.

Arnold

The brooding East with awe beheld Her impious younger world. The Roman tempest swellid and swellid, And on her head was hurled .

The East bow'd low before the blast In patient, deep disdain; She let the legions thunder past, And plunged in thought again.

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

Genseric

Genseric, King of the Vandals, who, having laid waste seven lands, From Tripolis far as Tangier, from the sea to the great desert sands, WaslordoftheMoorandtheAfrican,-thirst ing anon for new slaughter, Sail'd out of Carthage, and sail'd o'er the Mediterranean water; Plunder'd Palermo, seiz'd Sicily, sack'd the Lucanian coast,

And paused, and said, laughing, Where next ? Then there came to the Vandal a Ghost From the Shadowy Land that lies hid and unknown in the Darkness Below . And answered, To Rome! SaidtheKingtotheGhost, Andwhose envoy art thou ? Whence com'st thou? and name me his name that hath sent thee: and say what is thine . " From far : and His name that hath sent me is God, the Ghost answered, and mine Was Hannibal once, ere thou wast: and the name that I now have is Fate. But arise, and be swift, and return. For God waits, and the moment is late." And, I go, said the Vandal. And went. When at last to the gates he was come, Loud he knock'd with his fierce iron fist. And full drowsily answer'd him Rome. "Who is it that knocketh so loud? Get thee hence. Let me be. For 'tis late.

276 Owen Meredith

Thou art wanted, cried Genseric. " Open!

His name that hath sent me is Fate, And mine, who knock late, Retribution." Rome gave him her glorious things; The keys she had conquer'd from kingdoms: the crowns she had wrested from kings: And Genseric bore them away into Carthage, avenged thus on Rome, And paused, and said, laughing, Where next ? And again the Ghost answer'd him, Home!

For now God doth need thee no longer. Where leadest thou me bythe hand?

Cried the King to the Ghost. And the Ghost answer'd, Into the Shadowy Land.

OWEN

. Kubla Khan

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea .

S. T. Coleridge

So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills

Where blossom'd many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. But 0, that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waningmoon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As ifthis earth in fast thick pantswere breath ing, A mighty fountain momently was forced; Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher'sflail: And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

5. T. Coleridge

It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran , Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean : And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves ofice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw : It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she play'd, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight t'would win me That with music loud and long,

5. T. Coleridge 279

I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !

His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Something to Remember

Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you, And did you speak to him again? How strange it seems, and new !

But you were living before that. And also you are living after, And the memory I started at My starting moves your laughter!

280 Robert Browning

I crossed a moor, with a name of its own And a certainuse in theworld, nodoubt, Yet a hand's -breadth of it shines alone ' Mid the blank miles round about :

For there I picked upon the heather And there I put inside my breast A moulted feather, an eagle-feather! Well, I forget the rest.

Ring Out, Wild Bells

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go;; Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the griefthat saps the mind, For those that here we see no more ; Ring out the feud of rich and poor. Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in thenobler modes oflife, With sweetermanners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in thelove oftruth and right, Ring in the common love ofgood.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust ofgold; Ring out the thousand wars ofold, Ring in the thousand of years peace .

Ring

in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.

INDEX OF AUTHORS

Allingham , William Anonymous Arnold , Matthew Beddoes, Thomas Lovell Blake, WilliamBrowning, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Robert Burns, Robert Byron , Lord Campbell , Thomas Clough, Arthur Hugh Coleridge, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Sara Collins, William . Corbet, Richard . Crashaw , Richard Davidson , John Dobell, Sydney Field , Eugene Follen , Eliza Lee Gale, Norman Herrick , Robert . Hogg , JamesHovey, Richard . Howe , Julia Ward Howitt, Mary Howitt , William Hunt , Leigh Ingelow, Jean Jonson , Ben Keats, John Kingsley, Charles

PAGE .

43 , 59, 83 1 , 14 , 16 , 172 , 174 , 179 , 182 216, 273 236 54, 79 , 80, 97 237 160 , 162 , 203 , 259 , 279 271 . 98 , 185 , 190 163 206 33 , 276 24 201 67 * 258 36,90 33 45 , 51 , 57 II 37 21 , 29 , 91 , 93 , 139

. . o . 70 , 74, 88 .

172 195 31 25 229 246 159 82 , 147 176, 230

. .

284 Inder of Authors

Longfellow , Henry Wadsworth Lovelace, Richard Lowell, Amy Macaulay, Lord . Maugham , H. N. Meredith, Owen . Miller, Joaquin Moore, Thomas Prentiss, Mrs. E. Ramal, Walter Rands, William Brighty Read, Thomas Buchanan Roberts, Theodore Robertson , W. Graham Rogers, Samuel . Roscoe, William Scott, Sir Walter Shakespeare, William Shelley , Percy Bysshe . Stevenson , Robert Louis Swinburne, Algernon Charles Taylor, Ann and Jane Tennyson , Alfred , Lord Thornbury , G. W. Wolfe, Charles Wordsworth , William

PAGR

. 165 , 167 , 170, 223 197 15 106 80 274 104, 206 .

77 13 44 15 , 53 , 65 , 85 IOI 183 29 , 48, 50 42 38 56, 197, 201 , 232 , 260 21 , 35 , 61 , 175 , 257 96 , 149 , 154 47 93 13 , 15 , 87 55 , 140, 208, 272 , 280 69, 261 199 22, 32 , 142, 255

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

A lofty ship from Salcombe came .

A Robin Redbreast in a cage

Abou Ben Adhem ( may his tribe increase !)

Ah , did you once see Shelley plain . Ah ! what pleasant visions haunt me

All honour to him who shall win the prize " Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee

At early dawn through London you must go .

At evening when the lamp is lit

At the corner of Wood Street , when daylight appears Awake, awake, my little boy

Ay , Oliver ! I was but seven , and he was eleven

Behind him lay the gray Azores

Bird of the wilderness Blow , wind, blow ! and go , mill , go ! Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen

PAGE

.

Build me a castle of sand Bunches of grapes , says Timothy Buttercups and daisies

Cold and raw Come, dear children , let us away . Come, take up your hats , and away let us haste Come unto these yellow sands

Curly Locks! Curly Locks !

Daffodils

Do you know what the birds say ? The sparrow , the dove

Draw a pail of water

Drummer -boy, drummer -boy, where is your drum

Fair daffodils, we weep to see

Farewell rewards and fairies .

48

6

Inder of first Lines

First came the primrose

Full fathom five thy father lies Genseric, King of the Vandals , who, having laid waste seven lands

Go, pretty child , and bear this flower Good -bye, good -bye to Summer

" Hadst thou stayed , I must have fled . Hail to thee, blithe spirit

Here in the country's heart .

Here's another day, dear Here's the tender coming

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest

Hush a while, my darling, for the long day closes

I am fever'd with the sunset

I am the Cat of Cats. I am

I come from haunts of coot and hern

I'd like now, yet had haply been afraid

I had a dove, and the sweet dove died

I had a little nut - tree

I have a little sister, they call her Peep, Peep

I like little Pussy, her coat is so warm

I saw a ship a -sailing .

I wander'd lonely as a cloud

If there were dreams to sell

In his cool hall, with haggard eyes

In holly hedges starving birds

In marble walls as white as milk

In the pleasant orchard closes

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan .

It was a black Bunny, with white in its head

It was roses , roses, all the way

January brings the snow

Jenny Wren fell sick

Lars Porsena of Clusium

Little baby , lay your head

Little Lamb , who made thee ?

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John .

Merry are the bells, and merry would they ring

PAGE

7 IO 14 6 22 236 273 89 237 276 85 204 24 4 106 17 80 4 .3

Inder of first Lines 287

Mine be a cot beside the hill

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord

My maid Mary she minds the dairy

My soul is an enchanted boat

Nobly, nobly Cape St. Vincent to the North-west died away

Not a drum was heard , not a funeral note

O for the voice of that wild horn .

O hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight

O look at the moon

O Mary , go and call the cattle home

O Mother -my- Love, if you'll give me your hand

O , my love is like a red , red rose

PAGE 42 195 7 96 . 162 199 197 56 IO .

O my true love's a smuggler and sails upon the sea

0 , to be in England

.

O wild West Wind , thou breath of Autumn's being

O young Lochinvar is come out of the West .

Often I think of the beautiful town

Oh England is a pleasant place for them that's rich and high

On either side the river lie

Once on a time an old red hen

Once there was a little kitty

Over hill, over dale

Over meadows purple - flowered

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair

Piping down the valleys wild Pussy -cat Mew jumped over a coal

Ring out wild bells to the wild sky

Ring-ting ! wish I were a Primrose

Say not the struggle nought availeth Sea shell, Sea shell

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Simon Danz has come home again

Sleep , baby , sleep

Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er

Sweet and low, sweet and low

Tell me not, Sweet , I am unkind

230 57 291 182 160 149 232 170

176 208 45 13 63 261 159 97 5 280 43 206 15 147 167 17 201 55 197

288 Inder of first Lines

Tell me where is Fancy bred

Thank you , pretty cow , that made

The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold

The cock is crowing

The cock's on the housetop .

The cuckoo's a bonny bird

The garden was pleasant with old - fashioned flowers

The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece !

The north wind doth blow

The splendour falls on castle walls

The wind one morning sprang up from sleep

There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream

There was a Knight of Bethlehem

There was a sound of revelry by night .

There was a time when meadow , grove, and stream

Thou whose birth on earth

Thunderofriotoushoofsoverthequakingsod

Tiger , Tiger, burning bright

Toll the lilies ' silver bells

'Twas in the good ship Rover

Twinkle , twinkle , little star

Under the greenwood tree

Up from the south at break of day

Up the airy mountain Waken , lords and ladies gay .

We've plough'd our land , we've sown our seed

What sweeter music can we bring

When the wind is in the East

Where the bee sucks there suck I

Where the pools are bright and deep Wynken , Blynken , and Nod one night

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves

Ye have been fresh and green

Ye Mariners of England

PAGE 257 87 98 31

8 16 65 190 9 272 25 77 80 185 142 93 183 81 69 172 12 35 59 260 16 91 8 63 76

. . . . 51 .

You spotted snakes with double tongue

61 139 163 64