COLE YOUNG RICE.
Swallow, I followThy skimmingOver the sunset skies—Follow till joy is dimmingTo sadness in my eyes.And hollow seems now thy twitteringHigh up where the bitteringNight-blown winds arise.Throstle, the wassailThou drinkestDaily of chalice buds—Wassail in which thou linkestThy notes of springtime moods—Should docile thy elfish flutteringWhere twilight is utteringSorcery through the woods.Plover, thou loverOf moorlandsDrained by the surfing sea—Lover of marshy tourlands,What is the world to thee?Nay rover, wing on unqueryingO'er mallows ne'er wearyingOver the pebbly sands!But sparrow, the care o'Thy nestingPierces thy vesper song—Care o' the young thy breastingShall warm through the blue night long—Till, an arrow, seems thy dittying,Of pain to the pityingHeart that knows earth's wrong.
Swallow, I followThy skimmingOver the sunset skies—Follow till joy is dimmingTo sadness in my eyes.And hollow seems now thy twitteringHigh up where the bitteringNight-blown winds arise.Throstle, the wassailThou drinkestDaily of chalice buds—Wassail in which thou linkestThy notes of springtime moods—Should docile thy elfish flutteringWhere twilight is utteringSorcery through the woods.Plover, thou loverOf moorlandsDrained by the surfing sea—Lover of marshy tourlands,What is the world to thee?Nay rover, wing on unqueryingO'er mallows ne'er wearyingOver the pebbly sands!But sparrow, the care o'Thy nestingPierces thy vesper song—Care o' the young thy breastingShall warm through the blue night long—Till, an arrow, seems thy dittying,Of pain to the pityingHeart that knows earth's wrong.
Swallow, I followThy skimmingOver the sunset skies—Follow till joy is dimmingTo sadness in my eyes.And hollow seems now thy twitteringHigh up where the bitteringNight-blown winds arise.
Swallow, I follow
Thy skimming
Over the sunset skies—
Follow till joy is dimming
To sadness in my eyes.
And hollow seems now thy twittering
High up where the bittering
Night-blown winds arise.
Throstle, the wassailThou drinkestDaily of chalice buds—Wassail in which thou linkestThy notes of springtime moods—Should docile thy elfish flutteringWhere twilight is utteringSorcery through the woods.
Throstle, the wassail
Thou drinkest
Daily of chalice buds—
Wassail in which thou linkest
Thy notes of springtime moods—
Should docile thy elfish fluttering
Where twilight is uttering
Sorcery through the woods.
Plover, thou loverOf moorlandsDrained by the surfing sea—Lover of marshy tourlands,What is the world to thee?Nay rover, wing on unqueryingO'er mallows ne'er wearyingOver the pebbly sands!
Plover, thou lover
Of moorlands
Drained by the surfing sea—
Lover of marshy tourlands,
What is the world to thee?
Nay rover, wing on unquerying
O'er mallows ne'er wearying
Over the pebbly sands!
But sparrow, the care o'Thy nestingPierces thy vesper song—Care o' the young thy breastingShall warm through the blue night long—Till, an arrow, seems thy dittying,Of pain to the pityingHeart that knows earth's wrong.
But sparrow, the care o'
Thy nesting
Pierces thy vesper song—
Care o' the young thy breasting
Shall warm through the blue night long—
Till, an arrow, seems thy dittying,
Of pain to the pitying
Heart that knows earth's wrong.