THE MOTHER BIRDThrough the green twilight of a hedgeI peered, with cheek on the cool leaves pressed,And spied a bird upon a nest:Two eyes she had beseeching meMeekly and brave, and her brown breastThrobb'd hot and quick above her heart;And then she oped her dagger bill,—'Twas not a chirp, as sparrows pipeAt break of day; 'twas not a trill,As falters through the quiet even;But one sharp solitary note,One desperate, fierce, and vivid cryOf valiant tears, and hopeless joy,One passionate note of victory:Off, like a fool afraid, I sneaked,Smiling the smile the fool smiles best,At the mother bird in the secret hedgePatient upon her lonely nest.
THE MOTHER BIRDThrough the green twilight of a hedgeI peered, with cheek on the cool leaves pressed,And spied a bird upon a nest:Two eyes she had beseeching meMeekly and brave, and her brown breastThrobb'd hot and quick above her heart;And then she oped her dagger bill,—'Twas not a chirp, as sparrows pipeAt break of day; 'twas not a trill,As falters through the quiet even;But one sharp solitary note,One desperate, fierce, and vivid cryOf valiant tears, and hopeless joy,One passionate note of victory:Off, like a fool afraid, I sneaked,Smiling the smile the fool smiles best,At the mother bird in the secret hedgePatient upon her lonely nest.
THE MOTHER BIRD
THE MOTHER BIRD
Through the green twilight of a hedgeI peered, with cheek on the cool leaves pressed,And spied a bird upon a nest:Two eyes she had beseeching meMeekly and brave, and her brown breastThrobb'd hot and quick above her heart;And then she oped her dagger bill,—'Twas not a chirp, as sparrows pipeAt break of day; 'twas not a trill,As falters through the quiet even;But one sharp solitary note,One desperate, fierce, and vivid cryOf valiant tears, and hopeless joy,One passionate note of victory:Off, like a fool afraid, I sneaked,Smiling the smile the fool smiles best,At the mother bird in the secret hedgePatient upon her lonely nest.
Through the green twilight of a hedge
I peered, with cheek on the cool leaves pressed,
And spied a bird upon a nest:
Two eyes she had beseeching me
Meekly and brave, and her brown breast
Throbb'd hot and quick above her heart;
And then she oped her dagger bill,—
'Twas not a chirp, as sparrows pipe
At break of day; 'twas not a trill,
As falters through the quiet even;
But one sharp solitary note,
One desperate, fierce, and vivid cry
Of valiant tears, and hopeless joy,
One passionate note of victory:
Off, like a fool afraid, I sneaked,
Smiling the smile the fool smiles best,
At the mother bird in the secret hedge
Patient upon her lonely nest.
THE CHILD IN THE STORY GOES TO BEDI prythee, Nurse, come smooth my hair,And prythee, Nurse, unloose my shoe,And trimly turn my silken sheetUpon my quilt of gentle blue.My pillow sweet of lavenderSmooth with an amiable hand,And may the dark pass peacefully byAs in the hour-glass droops the sand.Prepare my cornered manchet sweet,And in my little crystal cupPour out the blithe and flowering meadThat forthwith I may sup.Withdraw my curtains from the night,And let the crispèd crescent shineUpon my eyelids while I sleep,And soothe me with her beams benign.From far-away there streams the singingOf the mellifluent nightingale,—Surely if goblins hear her lay,They shall not o'er my peace prevail.Now quench my silver lamp, prythee,And bid the harpers harp that tuneFairies which haunt the meadowlandsSing clearly to the stars of June.And bid them play, though I in dreamsNo longer heed their pining strains,For I would not to silence wakeWhen slumber o'er my senses wanes.You Angels bright who me defend,Enshadow me with curvèd wing,And keep me in the darksome nightTill dawn another day do bring.
THE CHILD IN THE STORY GOES TO BEDI prythee, Nurse, come smooth my hair,And prythee, Nurse, unloose my shoe,And trimly turn my silken sheetUpon my quilt of gentle blue.My pillow sweet of lavenderSmooth with an amiable hand,And may the dark pass peacefully byAs in the hour-glass droops the sand.Prepare my cornered manchet sweet,And in my little crystal cupPour out the blithe and flowering meadThat forthwith I may sup.Withdraw my curtains from the night,And let the crispèd crescent shineUpon my eyelids while I sleep,And soothe me with her beams benign.From far-away there streams the singingOf the mellifluent nightingale,—Surely if goblins hear her lay,They shall not o'er my peace prevail.Now quench my silver lamp, prythee,And bid the harpers harp that tuneFairies which haunt the meadowlandsSing clearly to the stars of June.And bid them play, though I in dreamsNo longer heed their pining strains,For I would not to silence wakeWhen slumber o'er my senses wanes.You Angels bright who me defend,Enshadow me with curvèd wing,And keep me in the darksome nightTill dawn another day do bring.
THE CHILD IN THE STORY GOES TO BED
THE CHILD IN THE STORY GOES TO BED
I prythee, Nurse, come smooth my hair,And prythee, Nurse, unloose my shoe,And trimly turn my silken sheetUpon my quilt of gentle blue.
I prythee, Nurse, come smooth my hair,
And prythee, Nurse, unloose my shoe,
And trimly turn my silken sheet
Upon my quilt of gentle blue.
My pillow sweet of lavenderSmooth with an amiable hand,And may the dark pass peacefully byAs in the hour-glass droops the sand.
My pillow sweet of lavender
Smooth with an amiable hand,
And may the dark pass peacefully by
As in the hour-glass droops the sand.
Prepare my cornered manchet sweet,And in my little crystal cupPour out the blithe and flowering meadThat forthwith I may sup.
Prepare my cornered manchet sweet,
And in my little crystal cup
Pour out the blithe and flowering mead
That forthwith I may sup.
Withdraw my curtains from the night,And let the crispèd crescent shineUpon my eyelids while I sleep,And soothe me with her beams benign.
Withdraw my curtains from the night,
And let the crispèd crescent shine
Upon my eyelids while I sleep,
And soothe me with her beams benign.
From far-away there streams the singingOf the mellifluent nightingale,—Surely if goblins hear her lay,They shall not o'er my peace prevail.
From far-away there streams the singing
Of the mellifluent nightingale,—
Surely if goblins hear her lay,
They shall not o'er my peace prevail.
Now quench my silver lamp, prythee,And bid the harpers harp that tuneFairies which haunt the meadowlandsSing clearly to the stars of June.
Now quench my silver lamp, prythee,
And bid the harpers harp that tune
Fairies which haunt the meadowlands
Sing clearly to the stars of June.
And bid them play, though I in dreamsNo longer heed their pining strains,For I would not to silence wakeWhen slumber o'er my senses wanes.
And bid them play, though I in dreams
No longer heed their pining strains,
For I would not to silence wake
When slumber o'er my senses wanes.
You Angels bright who me defend,Enshadow me with curvèd wing,And keep me in the darksome nightTill dawn another day do bring.
You Angels bright who me defend,
Enshadow me with curvèd wing,
And keep me in the darksome night
Till dawn another day do bring.
THE CHILD IN THE STORY AWAKESThe light of dawn rose on my dreams,And from afar I seemed to hearIn sleep the mellow blackbird callHollow and sweet and clear.I prythee, Nurse, my casement open,Wildly the garden peals with singing,And hooting through the dewy pinesThe goblins all are winging.O listen the droning of the bees,That in the roses take delight!And see a cloud stays in the blueLike an angel still and bright.The gentle sky is spread like silk,And, Nurse, the moon doth languish there,As if it were a perfect jewelIn the morning's soft-spun hair.The greyness of the distant hillsIs silvered in the lucid East,See, now the sheeny-plumèd cockWags haughtily his crest.'O come you out, O come you out,Lily, and lavender, and lime;The kingcup swings his golden bell,And plumpy cherries drum the time.'O come you out, O come you out!Roses, and dew, and mignonette,The sun is in the steep blue sky,Sweetly the morning star is set.'
THE CHILD IN THE STORY AWAKESThe light of dawn rose on my dreams,And from afar I seemed to hearIn sleep the mellow blackbird callHollow and sweet and clear.I prythee, Nurse, my casement open,Wildly the garden peals with singing,And hooting through the dewy pinesThe goblins all are winging.O listen the droning of the bees,That in the roses take delight!And see a cloud stays in the blueLike an angel still and bright.The gentle sky is spread like silk,And, Nurse, the moon doth languish there,As if it were a perfect jewelIn the morning's soft-spun hair.The greyness of the distant hillsIs silvered in the lucid East,See, now the sheeny-plumèd cockWags haughtily his crest.'O come you out, O come you out,Lily, and lavender, and lime;The kingcup swings his golden bell,And plumpy cherries drum the time.'O come you out, O come you out!Roses, and dew, and mignonette,The sun is in the steep blue sky,Sweetly the morning star is set.'
THE CHILD IN THE STORY AWAKES
THE CHILD IN THE STORY AWAKES
The light of dawn rose on my dreams,And from afar I seemed to hearIn sleep the mellow blackbird callHollow and sweet and clear.
The light of dawn rose on my dreams,
And from afar I seemed to hear
In sleep the mellow blackbird call
Hollow and sweet and clear.
I prythee, Nurse, my casement open,Wildly the garden peals with singing,And hooting through the dewy pinesThe goblins all are winging.
I prythee, Nurse, my casement open,
Wildly the garden peals with singing,
And hooting through the dewy pines
The goblins all are winging.
O listen the droning of the bees,That in the roses take delight!And see a cloud stays in the blueLike an angel still and bright.
O listen the droning of the bees,
That in the roses take delight!
And see a cloud stays in the blue
Like an angel still and bright.
The gentle sky is spread like silk,And, Nurse, the moon doth languish there,As if it were a perfect jewelIn the morning's soft-spun hair.
The gentle sky is spread like silk,
And, Nurse, the moon doth languish there,
As if it were a perfect jewel
In the morning's soft-spun hair.
The greyness of the distant hillsIs silvered in the lucid East,See, now the sheeny-plumèd cockWags haughtily his crest.
The greyness of the distant hills
Is silvered in the lucid East,
See, now the sheeny-plumèd cock
Wags haughtily his crest.
'O come you out, O come you out,Lily, and lavender, and lime;The kingcup swings his golden bell,And plumpy cherries drum the time.
'O come you out, O come you out,
Lily, and lavender, and lime;
The kingcup swings his golden bell,
And plumpy cherries drum the time.
'O come you out, O come you out!Roses, and dew, and mignonette,The sun is in the steep blue sky,Sweetly the morning star is set.'
'O come you out, O come you out!
Roses, and dew, and mignonette,
The sun is in the steep blue sky,
Sweetly the morning star is set.'
THE LAMPLIGHTERWhen the light of day declineth,And a swift angel through the skyKindleth God's tapers clear,With ashen staff the lamplighterPasseth along the darkling streetsTo light our earthly lamps;Lest, prowling in the darkness,The thief should haunt with quiet tread,Or men on evil errands set;Or wayfarers be benighted;Or neighbours bent from house to houseShould need a guiding torch.He is like a needlewomanWho deftly on a sable hemStitches in gleaming jewels;Or, haply, he is like a hero,Whose bright deeds on the long journeyAre beacons on our way.And when in the East cometh morning,And the broad splendour of the sun,Then, with the tune of little birdsRinging on high, the lamplighterPasseth by each quiet house,And putteth out the lamps.
THE LAMPLIGHTERWhen the light of day declineth,And a swift angel through the skyKindleth God's tapers clear,With ashen staff the lamplighterPasseth along the darkling streetsTo light our earthly lamps;Lest, prowling in the darkness,The thief should haunt with quiet tread,Or men on evil errands set;Or wayfarers be benighted;Or neighbours bent from house to houseShould need a guiding torch.He is like a needlewomanWho deftly on a sable hemStitches in gleaming jewels;Or, haply, he is like a hero,Whose bright deeds on the long journeyAre beacons on our way.And when in the East cometh morning,And the broad splendour of the sun,Then, with the tune of little birdsRinging on high, the lamplighterPasseth by each quiet house,And putteth out the lamps.
THE LAMPLIGHTER
THE LAMPLIGHTER
When the light of day declineth,And a swift angel through the skyKindleth God's tapers clear,With ashen staff the lamplighterPasseth along the darkling streetsTo light our earthly lamps;
When the light of day declineth,
And a swift angel through the sky
Kindleth God's tapers clear,
With ashen staff the lamplighter
Passeth along the darkling streets
To light our earthly lamps;
Lest, prowling in the darkness,The thief should haunt with quiet tread,Or men on evil errands set;Or wayfarers be benighted;Or neighbours bent from house to houseShould need a guiding torch.
Lest, prowling in the darkness,
The thief should haunt with quiet tread,
Or men on evil errands set;
Or wayfarers be benighted;
Or neighbours bent from house to house
Should need a guiding torch.
He is like a needlewomanWho deftly on a sable hemStitches in gleaming jewels;Or, haply, he is like a hero,Whose bright deeds on the long journeyAre beacons on our way.
He is like a needlewoman
Who deftly on a sable hem
Stitches in gleaming jewels;
Or, haply, he is like a hero,
Whose bright deeds on the long journey
Are beacons on our way.
And when in the East cometh morning,And the broad splendour of the sun,Then, with the tune of little birdsRinging on high, the lamplighterPasseth by each quiet house,And putteth out the lamps.
And when in the East cometh morning,
And the broad splendour of the sun,
Then, with the tune of little birds
Ringing on high, the lamplighter
Passeth by each quiet house,
And putteth out the lamps.
CECILYe little elves, who haunt sweet dells,Where flowers with the dew commune,I pray you hush the child, Cecil,With windlike song.O little elves, so white she lieth,Each eyelid gentler than the flow'rOf the bramble, and her fleecy hairLike smoke of gold.O little elves, her hands and feetThe angels muse upon, and GodHath shut a glimpse of ParadiseIn each blue eye.O little elves, her tiny bodyLike a white flake of snow it is,Drooping upon the pale green hoodOf the chill snowdrop.O little elves, with elderflower,And pimpernel, and the white hawthorn,Sprinkle the journey of her dreams:And, little elves,Call to her magically sweet,Lest of her very tendernessShe do forsake this rough brown earthAnd return to us no more.
CECILYe little elves, who haunt sweet dells,Where flowers with the dew commune,I pray you hush the child, Cecil,With windlike song.O little elves, so white she lieth,Each eyelid gentler than the flow'rOf the bramble, and her fleecy hairLike smoke of gold.O little elves, her hands and feetThe angels muse upon, and GodHath shut a glimpse of ParadiseIn each blue eye.O little elves, her tiny bodyLike a white flake of snow it is,Drooping upon the pale green hoodOf the chill snowdrop.O little elves, with elderflower,And pimpernel, and the white hawthorn,Sprinkle the journey of her dreams:And, little elves,Call to her magically sweet,Lest of her very tendernessShe do forsake this rough brown earthAnd return to us no more.
CECIL
CECIL
Ye little elves, who haunt sweet dells,Where flowers with the dew commune,I pray you hush the child, Cecil,With windlike song.
Ye little elves, who haunt sweet dells,
Where flowers with the dew commune,
I pray you hush the child, Cecil,
With windlike song.
O little elves, so white she lieth,Each eyelid gentler than the flow'rOf the bramble, and her fleecy hairLike smoke of gold.
O little elves, so white she lieth,
Each eyelid gentler than the flow'r
Of the bramble, and her fleecy hair
Like smoke of gold.
O little elves, her hands and feetThe angels muse upon, and GodHath shut a glimpse of ParadiseIn each blue eye.
O little elves, her hands and feet
The angels muse upon, and God
Hath shut a glimpse of Paradise
In each blue eye.
O little elves, her tiny bodyLike a white flake of snow it is,Drooping upon the pale green hoodOf the chill snowdrop.
O little elves, her tiny body
Like a white flake of snow it is,
Drooping upon the pale green hood
Of the chill snowdrop.
O little elves, with elderflower,And pimpernel, and the white hawthorn,Sprinkle the journey of her dreams:And, little elves,
O little elves, with elderflower,
And pimpernel, and the white hawthorn,
Sprinkle the journey of her dreams:
And, little elves,
Call to her magically sweet,Lest of her very tendernessShe do forsake this rough brown earthAnd return to us no more.
Call to her magically sweet,
Lest of her very tenderness
She do forsake this rough brown earth
And return to us no more.
I MET AT EVEI met at eve the Prince of Sleep,His was a still and lovely face,He wandered through a valley steepLovely in a lonely place.His garb was grey of lavender,About his brows a poppy-wreathBurned like dim coals, and everywhereThe air was sweeter for his breath.His twilight feet no sandals wore,His eyes shone faint in their own flame,Fair moths that gloomed his steps beforeSeemed letters of his lovely name.His house is in the mountain ways,A phantom house of misty walls,Whose golden flocks at evening graze,And witch the moon with muffled calls.Upwelling from his shadowy springsSweet waters shake a trembling sound,There flit the hoot-owl's silent wings,There hath his web the silkworm wound.Dark in his pools clear visions lurk,And rosy, as with morning buds,Along his dales of broom and birkDreams haunt his solitary woods.I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,His was a still and lovely face,He wandered through a valley steep,Lovely in a lonely place.
I MET AT EVEI met at eve the Prince of Sleep,His was a still and lovely face,He wandered through a valley steepLovely in a lonely place.His garb was grey of lavender,About his brows a poppy-wreathBurned like dim coals, and everywhereThe air was sweeter for his breath.His twilight feet no sandals wore,His eyes shone faint in their own flame,Fair moths that gloomed his steps beforeSeemed letters of his lovely name.His house is in the mountain ways,A phantom house of misty walls,Whose golden flocks at evening graze,And witch the moon with muffled calls.Upwelling from his shadowy springsSweet waters shake a trembling sound,There flit the hoot-owl's silent wings,There hath his web the silkworm wound.Dark in his pools clear visions lurk,And rosy, as with morning buds,Along his dales of broom and birkDreams haunt his solitary woods.I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,His was a still and lovely face,He wandered through a valley steep,Lovely in a lonely place.
I MET AT EVE
I MET AT EVE
I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,His was a still and lovely face,He wandered through a valley steepLovely in a lonely place.
I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,
His was a still and lovely face,
He wandered through a valley steep
Lovely in a lonely place.
His garb was grey of lavender,About his brows a poppy-wreathBurned like dim coals, and everywhereThe air was sweeter for his breath.
His garb was grey of lavender,
About his brows a poppy-wreath
Burned like dim coals, and everywhere
The air was sweeter for his breath.
His twilight feet no sandals wore,His eyes shone faint in their own flame,Fair moths that gloomed his steps beforeSeemed letters of his lovely name.
His twilight feet no sandals wore,
His eyes shone faint in their own flame,
Fair moths that gloomed his steps before
Seemed letters of his lovely name.
His house is in the mountain ways,A phantom house of misty walls,Whose golden flocks at evening graze,And witch the moon with muffled calls.
His house is in the mountain ways,
A phantom house of misty walls,
Whose golden flocks at evening graze,
And witch the moon with muffled calls.
Upwelling from his shadowy springsSweet waters shake a trembling sound,There flit the hoot-owl's silent wings,There hath his web the silkworm wound.
Upwelling from his shadowy springs
Sweet waters shake a trembling sound,
There flit the hoot-owl's silent wings,
There hath his web the silkworm wound.
Dark in his pools clear visions lurk,And rosy, as with morning buds,Along his dales of broom and birkDreams haunt his solitary woods.
Dark in his pools clear visions lurk,
And rosy, as with morning buds,
Along his dales of broom and birk
Dreams haunt his solitary woods.
I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,His was a still and lovely face,He wandered through a valley steep,Lovely in a lonely place.
I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,
His was a still and lovely face,
He wandered through a valley steep,
Lovely in a lonely place.
LULLABYSleep, sleep, lovely white soul!The singing mouse sings plaintively,The sweet night-bird in the chesnut-tree—They sing together, bird and mouse,In starlight, in darkness, lonely, sweet,The wild notes and the faint notes meet—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Amid the lilies floats the moth,The mole along his galleries goethIn the dark earth; the summer moonLooks like a shepherd through the paneSeeking his feeble lamb again—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Time comes to keep night-watch with theeNodding with roses; and the seaSaith 'Peace! Peace!' amid his foamWhite as thy night-clothes; 'O be still!'The wind cries up the whisp'ring hill—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
LULLABYSleep, sleep, lovely white soul!The singing mouse sings plaintively,The sweet night-bird in the chesnut-tree—They sing together, bird and mouse,In starlight, in darkness, lonely, sweet,The wild notes and the faint notes meet—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Amid the lilies floats the moth,The mole along his galleries goethIn the dark earth; the summer moonLooks like a shepherd through the paneSeeking his feeble lamb again—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Time comes to keep night-watch with theeNodding with roses; and the seaSaith 'Peace! Peace!' amid his foamWhite as thy night-clothes; 'O be still!'The wind cries up the whisp'ring hill—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
LULLABY
LULLABY
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!The singing mouse sings plaintively,The sweet night-bird in the chesnut-tree—They sing together, bird and mouse,In starlight, in darkness, lonely, sweet,The wild notes and the faint notes meet—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
The singing mouse sings plaintively,
The sweet night-bird in the chesnut-tree—
They sing together, bird and mouse,
In starlight, in darkness, lonely, sweet,
The wild notes and the faint notes meet—
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Amid the lilies floats the moth,The mole along his galleries goethIn the dark earth; the summer moonLooks like a shepherd through the paneSeeking his feeble lamb again—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Amid the lilies floats the moth,
The mole along his galleries goeth
In the dark earth; the summer moon
Looks like a shepherd through the pane
Seeking his feeble lamb again—
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!Time comes to keep night-watch with theeNodding with roses; and the seaSaith 'Peace! Peace!' amid his foamWhite as thy night-clothes; 'O be still!'The wind cries up the whisp'ring hill—Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Time comes to keep night-watch with thee
Nodding with roses; and the sea
Saith 'Peace! Peace!' amid his foam
White as thy night-clothes; 'O be still!'
The wind cries up the whisp'ring hill—
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
ENVOYThere clung three roses to a stem,Did all their hues of summer don,But came a wind and troubled them,And all were gone.I heard three bells in unisonClap out some transient heart's delight,Time and the hour brought silence onAnd the dark night.Doth not Orion even set!O love, love, prove true alone,Till youthful hearts ev'n love forget,Then, child, begone!
ENVOYThere clung three roses to a stem,Did all their hues of summer don,But came a wind and troubled them,And all were gone.I heard three bells in unisonClap out some transient heart's delight,Time and the hour brought silence onAnd the dark night.Doth not Orion even set!O love, love, prove true alone,Till youthful hearts ev'n love forget,Then, child, begone!
ENVOY
ENVOY
There clung three roses to a stem,Did all their hues of summer don,But came a wind and troubled them,And all were gone.
There clung three roses to a stem,
Did all their hues of summer don,
But came a wind and troubled them,
And all were gone.
I heard three bells in unisonClap out some transient heart's delight,Time and the hour brought silence onAnd the dark night.
I heard three bells in unison
Clap out some transient heart's delight,
Time and the hour brought silence on
And the dark night.
Doth not Orion even set!O love, love, prove true alone,Till youthful hearts ev'n love forget,Then, child, begone!
Doth not Orion even set!
O love, love, prove true alone,
Till youthful hearts ev'n love forget,
Then, child, begone!
Printed by T. and A.Constable, (late) Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press