THE GNOMIES

As I lay awake in the white moonlight,

I heard a sweet singing in the wood—

'Out of bed,

Sleepyhead,

Put your white foot now,

Here are we,

'Neath the tree,

Singing round the root now!'

I looked out of window in the white moonlight,

The trees were like snow in the wood—

'Come away

Child and play,

Light wi' the gnomies;

In a mound,

Green and round,

That's where their home is!

'Honey sweet,

BLUEBELLS

Where the bluebells and the wind are,

Fairies in a ring I spied,

And I heard a little linnet

Singing near beside.

Where the primrose and the dew are,

Soon were sped the fairies all:

Only now the green turf freshens,

And the linnets call.

LOVELOCKS

I watched the Lady Caroline

Bind up her dark and beauteous hair;

Her face was rosy in the glass,

And 'twixt the coils her hands would pass,

White in the candleshine.

Her bottles on the table lay,

Stoppered yet sweet of violet;

Her image in the mirror stooped

To view those locks as lightly looped

As cherry-boughs in May.

The snowy night lay dim without,

I heard the Waits their sweet song sing;

The window smouldered keen with frost;

Yet still she twisted, sleeked and tossed

Her beauteous hair about.

O DEAR ME!

Here are crocuses, white, gold, grey!

'O dear me!' says Marjorie May;

Flat as a platter the blackberry blows:

'O dear me!' says Madeleine Rose;

The leaves are fallen, the swallows flown:

'O dear me!' says Humphrey John;

Snow lies thick where all night it fell:

'O dear me!' says Emmanuel.

TARTARY

If I were Lord of Tartary,

Myself and me alone,

My bed should be of ivory,

Of beaten gold my throne;

And in my court should peacocks flaunt,

And in my forests tigers haunt,

And in my pools great fishes slant

Their fins athwart the sun.

If I were Lord of Tartary,

Trumpeters every day

To all my meals should summon me,

And in my courtyards bray;

And in the evenings lamps should shine,

Yellow as honey, red as wine,

While harp, and flute, and mandoline,

Made music sweet and gay.

If I were Lord of Tartary,

I'd wear a robe of beads,

White, and gold, and green they'd be—

And small, and thick as seeds;

And ere should wane the morning-star,

I'd don my robe and scimitar,

And zebras seven should draw my car

Through Tartary's dark glades.

Lord of the fruits of Tartary,

Her rivers silver-pale!

Lord of the hills of Tartary,

Glen, thicket, wood, and dale!

Her flashing stars, her scented breeze,

Her trembling lakes, like foamless seas,

Her bird-delighting citron-trees

In every purple vale!

THE BUCKLE

I had a silver buckle,

I sewed it on my shoe,

And 'neath a sprig of mistletoe

I danced the evening through!

I had a bunch of cowslips,

I hid 'em in a grot,

In case the elves should come by night

And me remember not.

I had a yellow riband,

I tied it in my hair,

That, walking in the garden,

The birds might see it there.

I had a secret laughter,

I laughed it near the wall:

Only the ivy and the wind

May tell of it at all.

THE HARE

In the black furrow of a field

I saw an old witch-hare this night;

And she cocked her lissome ear,

And she eyed the moon so bright,

And she nibbled o' the green;

And I whispered 'Whsst! witch-hare,'

Away like a ghostie o'er the field

She fled, and left the moonlight there.

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

For me,' says Jane.

'Chariots of gold,' says Timothy;

'Silvery wings,' says Elaine;

'A bumpity ride in a wagon of hay

For me,' says Jane.

JOHN MOULDY

I spied John Mouldy in his cellar,

Deep down twenty steps of stone;

In the dusk he sat a-smiling,

Smiling there alone.

He read no book, he snuffed no candle;

The rats ran in, the rats ran out;

And far and near, the drip of water

Went whisp'ring about.

The dusk was still, with dew a-falling,

I saw the Dog-star bleak and grim,

I saw a slim brown rat of Norway

Creep over him.

I spied John Mouldy in his cellar,

Deep down twenty steps of stone;

In the dusk he sat a-smiling,

Smiling there alone.

THE FLY

How large unto the tiny fly

Must little things appear!—

A rosebud like a feather bed,

Its prickle like a spear;

A dewdrop like a looking-glass,

A hair like golden wire;

The smallest grain of mustard-seed

As fierce as coals of fire;

A loaf of bread, a lofty hill;

A wasp, a cruel leopard;

And specks of salt as bright to see

As lambkins to a shepherd.

SONG

O for a moon to light me home!

O for a lanthorn green!

For those sweet stars the Pleiades,

That glitter in the twilight trees;

O for a lovelorn taper! O

For a lanthorn

I SAW THREE WITCHES

I saw three witches

That bowed down like barley,

And took to their brooms 'neath a louring sky,

And, mounting a storm-cloud,

Aloft on its margin,

Stood black in the silver as up they did fly.

I saw three witches

That mocked the poor sparrows

They carried in cages of wicker along,

Till a hawk from his eyrie

Swooped down like an arrow,

And smote on the cages, and ended their song.

I saw three witches

That sailed in a shallop,

All turning their heads with a truculent smile,

Till a bank of green osiers

Concealed their grim faces,

Though I heard them lamenting for many a mile.

I saw three witches

Asleep in a valley,

Their heads in a row, like stones in a flood,

Till the moon, creeping upward,

Looked white through the valley,

And turned them to bushes in bright scarlet bud.

THE SILVER PENNY

'Sailorman, I'll give to you'

My bright silver penny,'

If out to sea you'll sail me'

And my dear sister Jenny.'

'Get in, young sir, I'll sail ye'

And your dear sister Jenny,'

But pay she shall her golden locks'

Instead of your penny.'

They sail away, they sail away,'

O fierce the winds blew!'

The foam flew in clouds,'

And dark the night grew!

And all the wild sea-water'

Climbed steep into the boat;'

Back to the shore again'

Sail they will not.

Drowned is the sailorman,'

Drowned is sweet Jenny,'

And drowned in the deep sea'

A bright silver penny.

THE NIGHT-SWANS

'Tis silence on the enchanted lake,

And silence in the air serene,

Save for the beating of her heart,

The lovely-eyed Evangeline.

She sings across the waters clear

And dark with trees and stars between,

The notes her fairy godmother

Taught her, the child Evangeline.

As might the unrippled pool reply,

Faltering an answer far and sweet,

Three swans as white as mountain snow

Swim mantling to her feet.

And still upon the lake they stay,

Their eyes black stars in all their snow,

And softly, in the glassy pool,

Their feet beat darkly to and fro.

She rides upon her little boat,

Her swans swim through the starry sheen,

Rowing her into Fairyland—

The lovely-eyed Evangeline.

'Tis silence on the enchanted

THE FAIRIES DANCING

I heard along the early hills,

Ere yet the lark was risen up,

Ere yet the dawn with firelight fills

The night-dew of the bramble-cup,—

I heard the fairies in a ring

Sing as they tripped a lilting round

Soft as the moon on wavering wing.

The starlight shook as if with sound,

As if with echoing, and the stars

Prankt their bright eyes with trembling gleams;

While red with war the gusty Mars

Rained upon earth his ruddy beams.

He shone alone, adown the West,

While I, behind a hawthorn-bush,

Watched on the fairies flaxen-tressed

The fires of the morning flush.

Till, as a mist, their beauty died,

Their singing shrill and fainter grew;

And daylight tremulous and wide

Flooded the moorland through and through;

Till Urdon's copper weathercock

Was reared in golden flame afar,

And dim from moonlit dreams awoke

The towers and groves of Arroar.

REVERIE

When slim Sophia mounts her horse

And paces down the avenue,

It seems an inward melody

She paces to.

Each narrow hoof is lifted high

Beneath the dark enclust'ring pines,

A silver ray within his bit

And bridle shines.

His eye burns deep, his tail is arched,

And streams upon the shadowy air,

The daylight sleeks his jetty flanks,

His mistress' hair.

Her habit flows in darkness down,

Upon the stirrup rests her foot,

Her brow is lifted, as if earth

She heeded not.

'Tis silent in the avenue,

The sombre pines are mute of song,

The blue is dark, there moves no breeze

The boughs among.

When slim Sophia mounts her horse

And paces down the avenue,

It seems an inward melody

She paces to.

THE THREE BEGGARS

'Twas autumn daybreak gold and wild,

While past St Ann's grey tower they shuffled,

Three beggars spied a fairy-child

In crimson mantle muffled.

The daybreak lighted up her face

All pink, and sharp, and emerald-eyed;

She looked on them a little space,

And shrill as hautboy cried:—

'O three tall footsore men of rags

Which walking this gold morn I see,

What will ye give me from your bags

For fairy kisses three?'

The first, that was a reddish man,

Out of his bundle takes a crust:

'La, by the tombstones of St Ann,

There's fee, if fee ye must!'

The second, that was a chesnut man,

Out of his bundle draws a bone:

'La, by the belfry of St Ann,

And all my breakfast gone!'

The third, that was a

THE DWARF

'Now, Jinnie, my dear, to the dwarf be off,

That lives in Barberry Wood,

And fetch me some honey, but be sure you don't laugh,—

He hates little girls that are rude, are rude,

He hates little girls that are rude.'

Jane tapped at the door of the house in the wood,

And the dwarf looked over the wall,

He eyed her so queer, 'twas as much as she could

To keep from laughing at all, at all,

To keep from laughing at all.

His shoes down the passage came clod, clod, clod,

And when he opened the door,

He croaked so harsh, 'twas as much as she could

To keep from laughing the more, the more,

To keep from laughing the more.

As there, with his bushy red beard, he stood,

Pricked out to double its size,

He squinted so cross, 'twas as much as she could

To keep the tears out of her eyes, her eyes,

To keep the tears out of her eyes.

He slammed the door, and went clod, clod, clod,

But while in the porch she bides,

He squealed so fierce, 'twas as much as she could

To keep from cracking her sides, her sides,

To keep from cracking her sides.

He threw a pumpkin over the wall,

And melons and apples beside,

So thick in the air, that to see 'em all fall,

She laughed, and laughed, till she cried, cried, cried,

Jane laughed and laughed till she cried.

Down fell her teardrops a pit-apat-pat,

And red as a rose she grew;—

'Kah! kah!' said the dwarf, 'is it crying you're at?

It's the very worst thing you could do, do, do,

It's the very worst thing you could do.'

He slipped like a monkey up into a tree,

He shook her down cherries like rain;

'See now,' says he, cheeping, 'a blackbird I be,

Laugh, laugh, little Jinnie, again-gain-gain,

Laugh, laugh, little Jinnie, again.'

Ah me! what a strange, what a gladsome duet

From a house i' the deeps of a wood!

Such shrill and such harsh voices never met yet

A-laughing as loud as they could-could-could,

A-laughing as loud as they could.

ALULVAN

The sun is clear of bird and cloud,

The grass shines windless, grey, and still,

In dusky ruin the owl dreams on,

The cuckoo echoes on the hill;

Yet soft along Alulvan's walks

The ghost at noonday stalks.

His eyes in shadow of his hat

Stare on the ruins of his house;

His cloak, up-fasten'd with a brooch,

Of faded velvet grey as mouse,

Brushes the roses as he goes:

Yet wavers not one rose.

The wild birds in a cloud fly up

From their sweet feeding in the fruit;

The droning of the bees and flies

Rises gradual as a lute;

Is it for fear the birds are flown,

And shrills the insect-drone?

Thick is the ivy o'er Alulvan,

And crisp with summer-heat its turf;

Far, far across its empty pastures

Alulvan's sands are white with surf:

And he himself is grey as sea,

Watching beneath an elder-tree.

All night the fretful, shrill Banshee

Lurks in the chambers' dark festoons,

Calling for ever, o'er garden and river,

Through magpie changing of the moons:

'Alulvan, O, alas! Alulvan,

The doom of lone Alulvan!'

THE PEDLAR

There came a Pedlar to an evening house;

Sweet Lettice, from her lattice looking down,

Wondered what man he was, so curious

His black hair dangled on his tattered gown:

Then lifts he up his face, with glittering eyes,—

'What will you buy, sweetheart?—Here's honeycomb,

And mottled pippins, and sweet mulberry pies,

Comfits and peaches, snowy cherry bloom,

To keep in water for to make night sweet:

All that you want, sweetheart,—come, taste and eat!'

Ev'n with his sugared words, returned to her

The clear remembrance of a gentle voice:—

'And O! my child, should ever a flatterer

Tap with his wares, and promise of all joys

And vain sweet pleasures that on earth may be;

Seal up your ears, sing some old happy song,

Confuse his magic who is all mockery:

His sweets are death.' Yet, still, how she doth long

But just to taste, then shut the lattice tight,

And hide her eyes from the delicious sight!

'What must I pay?' she whispered. 'Pay!' says he,

'Pedlar I am who through this wood do roam,

One lock of hair is gold enough for me,

For apple, peach, comfit, or honeycomb!'

But from her bough a drowsy squirrel cried,

'Trust him not, Lettice, trust, oh trust him not!'

And many another woodland tongue beside

Rose softly in the silence—'Trust him not!'

Then cried the Pedlar in a bitter voice,

'What, in the thicket, is this idle noise?'

A late, harsh blackbird smote him with her wings,

As through the glade, dark in the dim, she flew;

Yet still the Pedlar his old burden sings,—

'What, pretty sweetheart, shall I show to you?

Here's orange ribands, here's a string of pearls,

Here's silk of buttercup and pansy glove,

A pin of tortoiseshell