صفحة 1
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Songs of Womanhood, by Laurence Alma-Tadema
Title: Songs of Womanhood
Author: Laurence Alma-Tadema
Release Date: August 19, 2011 [eBook #37132]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF WOMANHOOD***
E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See http://www.archive.org/details/songsofwomanhood00almauoft
Songs of Womanhood
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
Uniform with this Volume.
REALMS OF UNKNOWN KINGS.
The Athenæum.—'In this volume the critic recognises with sudden joy the work of a true poet.'
The Saturday Review.—'It is a book in which deep feeling speaks ... and it has something of that essentially poetical thought, the thought that sees, which lies deeper than feeling.'
LONDON: GRANT RICHARDS.
Songs of Womanhood
BY
LAURENCE ALMA TADEMA
GRANT RICHARDS
48 LEICESTER SQUARE
LONDON
1903
Edinburgh: Printed by T. and A. Constable
A great number of the following verses are already known to readers of The Herb o' Grace, and of the little reprint, Songs of Childhood. As these pamphlets, however, did not reach the public, it has been thought advisable to re-issue the verses in book-form, together with three or four more collected from various reviews, and a number that are here printed for the first time.
L.A.T.
Contents
PAGE CHILDHOOD KING BABY 3 A BLESSING FOR THE BLESSED 5 TO RAOUL BOUCHARD 8 TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW 10 THE NESTING HOUR 11 THE LITTLE SISTER— Bath-time 12 Bed-time 13 A TWILIGHT SONG 14 A WINTRY LULLABY 15 THE WARM CRADLE 16 THE DROOPING FLOWER 17 MOTHERS IN THE GARDEN— I. 18 II. 19 THE GRAVEL PATH 20 THE NEW PELISSE 21 SOLACE 22 STRANGE LANDS 23 MARCH MEADOWS— A Lark 24 Lambs 25 THE ROBIN 26 THE MOUSE 27
صفحة 2
class="tdpl">THE BAT 28 THE SWALLOW 29 SNOWDROPS 30 FROST 32 APPLES 33 LONELY CHILDREN— I. 34 II. 35 PLAYGROUNDS 36 FAIRINGS 38 THE FLOWER TO THE BUD 40 SIX SONGS OF GIRLHOOD LOVE AND THE MAIDENS 43 AWAKENINGS 44 THE CLOUDED SOUL 46 THE HEALER 47 THE OPEN DOOR 48 THE FUGITIVE 49 THE FAITHFUL WIFE 53 WOMANHOOD A WOMAN TO HER POET 63 THE INFIDEL 64 LOVE WITHIN VOWS 65 THE EXILE 66 THE SCAR INDELIBLE 67 REVULSION 68 THE CAPTIVE 69 POSSESSION'S ANGUISH 70 TREASURES OF POVERTY 72 SOLITUDE 73 THE HEART ASLEEP 74 ADVERSITY 75 FACES OF THE DEAD 76 THE SLEEPER 80 STARS 81 TRELAWNY'S GRAVE 82 V.R.I.—JANUARY 22, 1901 83 LINES ON A PICTURE BY MARY GOW 84 TO SERENITY
صفحة 3
tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">85 ELEVEN SONNETS 89 THE OPEN AIR SUNSHINE IN FEBRUARY 103 THE CUCKOO 104 A SONG IN THE MORNING 107 IN A LONDON SQUARE 109 THE CALL OF THE GREEN 111 SUMMER ENDING 112 NEAR AUTUMN 114 NOVEMBER 115 THE COMMON WEALTH 117
CHILDHOOD
King Baby
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning O, sits reigning O!
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning all alone.
Sits reigning O, sits reigning O!
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning all alone.
His throne is Mother's knee,
So tender O, so tender O!
His throne is Mother's knee,
Where none may sit but he.
So tender O, so tender O!
His throne is Mother's knee,
Where none may sit but he.
His crown it is of gold,
So curly O, so curly O!
His crown it is of gold,
In shining tendrils rolled.
So curly O, so curly O!
His crown it is of gold,
In shining tendrils rolled.
His kingdom is my heart,
[4] So loyal O, so loyal O!
His kingdom is my heart,
His own in every part.
[4] So loyal O, so loyal O!
His kingdom is my heart,
His own in every part.
Divine are all his laws,
So simple O, so simple O!
Divine are all his laws,
With Love for end and cause.
So simple O, so simple O!
Divine are all his laws,
With Love for end and cause.
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning O, sits reigning O!
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning all alone.
Sits reigning O, sits reigning O!
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning all alone.
A Blessing for the BlessedToC
When the sun has left the hill-top,
And the daisy-fringe is furled,
When the birds from wood and meadow
In their hidden nests are curled,
Then I think of all the babies
That are sleeping in the world....
And the daisy-fringe is furled,
When the birds from wood and meadow
In their hidden nests are curled,
Then I think of all the babies
That are sleeping in the world....
There are babies in the high lands
And babies in the low,
There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins
On the margin of the snow,
And brown ones naked in the isles,
Where all the spices grow.
And babies in the low,
There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins
On the margin of the snow,
And brown ones naked in the isles,
Where all the spices grow.
And some are in the palace
[6] On a white and downy bed,
And some are in the garret
With a clout beneath their head,
And some are on the cold hard earth,
Whose mothers have no bread.
[6] On a white and downy bed,
And some are in the garret
With a clout beneath their head,
And some are on the cold hard earth,
Whose mothers have no bread.
O little men and women,
Dear flowers yet unblown!
O little kings and beggars
Of the pageant yet unshown!
Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now,
To-morrow is your own....
Dear flowers yet unblown!
O little kings and beggars
Of the pageant yet unshown!
Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now,
To-morrow is your own....
Though some shall walk in darkness,
And others in the light,
Though some shall smile and others weep
In the silence of the night,
When Life has touched with many hues
Your souls now clear and white:
And others in the light,
Though some shall smile and others weep
In the silence of the night,
When Life has touched with many hues
Your souls now clear and white:
God save you, little children!
[7] And make your eyes to see
His finger pointing in the dark
Whatever you may be,
Till one and all, through Life and Death,
Pass to Eternity....
[7] And make your eyes to see
His finger pointing in the dark
Whatever you may be,
Till one and all, through Life and Death,
Pass to Eternity....
To Raoul BouchardToC
Dear were your kisses, baby boy,
Your weight upon my arm:
Gay were your tuneful cries of joy
As I danced you round the farm:
And sweet your softness when we lay
Laughing and cooing in the hay.
Your weight upon my arm:
Gay were your tuneful cries of joy
As I danced you round the farm:
And sweet your softness when we lay
Laughing and cooing in the hay.
The summer sun will shine again,
Old arms will mow and reap;
There'll be new flowers on the plain,
New lambs among the sheep;
But never in this world of men
Shall we two be as we were then.
Old arms will mow and reap;
There'll be new flowers on the plain,
New lambs among the sheep;
But never in this world of men
Shall we two be as we were then.
صفحة 4
Your feet have touched the ground, my bird,
[9] And now your wondering eyes
Will gaze no more as if they heard
A seraph in the skies:
A little boy, with leap and shout
You'll wildly chase your dreams about.
[9] And now your wondering eyes
Will gaze no more as if they heard
A seraph in the skies:
A little boy, with leap and shout
You'll wildly chase your dreams about.
But when you are a man, soft thing,
And life has made you stern,
May we who watched you in your spring
Still feel our babe return
In hallowed moments, such as shine
When thought or deed makes man divine.
And life has made you stern,
May we who watched you in your spring
Still feel our babe return
In hallowed moments, such as shine
When thought or deed makes man divine.
To-day and To-morrowToC
Little hands—what will you grasp
When you leave this nest, O?
Little arms—what will you clasp
Against that tender breast, O?
Cling to mother's finger, babe,
Throw sweet arms about me!
Here no noons may linger, babe,
Soon you'll love without me.
When you leave this nest, O?
Little arms—what will you clasp
Against that tender breast, O?
Cling to mother's finger, babe,
Throw sweet arms about me!
Here no noons may linger, babe,
Soon you'll love without me.
Little toes—where will you turn,
East or south or west, O?
Little feet—what sands that burn
Will you soon have pressed, O?
Lie on mother's knee, my own,
Dance your heels about me!
Apples leave the tree, my own,
Soon you'll live without me....
East or south or west, O?
Little feet—what sands that burn
Will you soon have pressed, O?
Lie on mother's knee, my own,
Dance your heels about me!
Apples leave the tree, my own,
Soon you'll live without me....
The Nesting HourToC
Robin-friend has gone to bed,
Little wing to hide his head—
Mother's bird must slumber too
Just as baby Robins do—
When the stars begin to rise,
Birds and babies close their eyes.
Little wing to hide his head—
Mother's bird must slumber too
Just as baby Robins do—
When the stars begin to rise,
Birds and babies close their eyes.
The Little SisterToC
Bath-time:
Baby's got no legs at all,
They're soft and pinky, crumpled things;
If he stood up he'd only fall:
But then, you see, he's used to wings.
They're soft and pinky, crumpled things;
If he stood up he'd only fall:
But then, you see, he's used to wings.
Bed-time:
Baby baby bye,
Close your little eye!
When the dark begins to creep,
Tiny-wees must go to sleep.
Close your little eye!
When the dark begins to creep,
Tiny-wees must go to sleep.
Lammy lammy lie,
I am seven, I;
Little boys must sleep and wait,
If they want their bed-time late.
I am seven, I;
Little boys must sleep and wait,
If they want their bed-time late.
Fidgy fidgy fie,
There's no need to cry!
Soon you'll never dress in white,
But sit up working half the night....
There's no need to cry!
Soon you'll never dress in white,
But sit up working half the night....
A Twilight SongToC
Baby moon, 'tis time for bed,
Owlet leaves his nest now;
Hide your little horned head
In the twilight west now;
When you're old and round and bright,
You shall stay and shine all night.
Owlet leaves his nest now;
Hide your little horned head
In the twilight west now;
When you're old and round and bright,
You shall stay and shine all night.
Baby girl is going too
In her bed to creep now;
She is little, just like you,
Time it is to sleep now;
When she's old and tired and wise,
She'll be glad to close her eyes.
In her bed to creep now;
She is little, just like you,
Time it is to sleep now;
When she's old and tired and wise,
She'll be glad to close her eyes.
A Wintry LullabyToC
Blow, wind, blow,
The fields are white with snow—
Sleeping daisies, deep and warm,
Cannot hear the Winter storm.
The fields are white with snow—
Sleeping daisies, deep and warm,
Cannot hear the Winter storm.
Freeze, air, freeze,
The rime is on the trees—
Sleeping buds within the bough,
Dream of spring and cuckoos now.
The rime is on the trees—
Sleeping buds within the bough,
Dream of spring and cuckoos now.
Turn, earth, turn,
The flames of life do burn—
Sleeping girl, my baby dove,
Knows no world but mother's love.
The flames of life do burn—
Sleeping girl, my baby dove,
Knows no world but mother's love.
The Warm CradleToC
Hush, baby, hush,
Sweet robin's in the bush—
All the birdies lie so quiet,
Won't my little dicky try it?
Hush, baby, hush.
Sweet robin's in the bush—
All the birdies lie so quiet,
Won't my little dicky try it?
Hush, baby, hush.
Sleep, baby, sleep,
The lammies love the sheep—
Woolly babes all nestle cosy,
Lie, my lambkin, warm and rosy,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
The lammies love the sheep—
Woolly babes all nestle cosy,
Lie, my lambkin, warm and rosy,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Dream, baby, dream,
Our feet are in the stream—
Stones below but stars above, child,
Life is warm so long we love, child,
Dream, baby, dream.
Our feet are in the stream—
Stones below but stars above, child,
Life is warm so long we love, child,
Dream, baby, dream.
صفحة 5
title="[17]"/>
The Drooping FlowerToC
Baby's rather ill to-night,
Little face is long and white,
Eyes are all too large and bright—
What shall mother do now?
Little face is long and white,
Eyes are all too large and bright—
What shall mother do now?
Never leave him out of sight,
Hold him warm and still and tight,
Make him well with all her might,
That's what she will do now.
Hold him warm and still and tight,
Make him well with all her might,
That's what she will do now.
Mothers in the GardenToC
I
Wagtail—pied Wagtail—
What tremor's in your breast?
On nimble feet, when we draw near,
You run about to hide your fear,
As if to say: There's nothing here,
I have no nest....
What tremor's in your breast?
On nimble feet, when we draw near,
You run about to hide your fear,
As if to say: There's nothing here,
I have no nest....
Wagtail—pied Wagtail—
We too their voices heard;
Away then to the water-side,
And fetch the food for which they cried;
From us there is no need to hide,
My dainty bird.
We too their voices heard;
Away then to the water-side,
And fetch the food for which they cried;
From us there is no need to hide,
My dainty bird.
II
The thrushes' nest has fallen
From the ivy on the wall:
The dear blue eggs are broken,
All broken by the fall.
From the ivy on the wall:
The dear blue eggs are broken,
All broken by the fall.
But we heard a song at sundown
That said: O tears are vain!—
And babe and I ceased grieving:
We think they will build again.
That said: O tears are vain!—
And babe and I ceased grieving:
We think they will build again.
The Gravel PathToC
Tiny mustn't frown
When she tumbles down;
If the wind should change—Ah me,
What a face her face would be!
When she tumbles down;
If the wind should change—Ah me,
What a face her face would be!
Rub away the dirt,
Say she wasn't hurt;
What a world 'twould be—O my,
If all who fell began to cry!
Say she wasn't hurt;
What a world 'twould be—O my,
If all who fell began to cry!
The New PelisseToC
Baby's got a new pelisse,
Very soft and very neat—
Like a lammy in her fleece
She's all white from head to feet.
Very soft and very neat—
Like a lammy in her fleece
She's all white from head to feet.
Thirty lambs each gave a curl,
Mother sewed them, stitch by stitch—
All to clothe a baby-girl:
Don't you think she's very rich?
Mother sewed them, stitch by stitch—
All to clothe a baby-girl:
Don't you think she's very rich?
SolaceToC
Whom does Miss belong to?
Just to Mother, Mother only:
That's whom Miss belongs to,
—And Mother's never lonely.
Just to Mother, Mother only:
That's whom Miss belongs to,
—And Mother's never lonely.
Whom's this little song to?
Just to Baby, Baby only:
That's whom little song's to,
—And Baby's never lonely.
Just to Baby, Baby only:
That's whom little song's to,
—And Baby's never lonely.
Strange LandsToC
Where do you come from, Mr. Jay?—
'From the land of Play, from the land of Play.'
And where can that be, Mr. Jay?—
'Far away—far away.'
'From the land of Play, from the land of Play.'
And where can that be, Mr. Jay?—
'Far away—far away.'
Where do you come from, Mrs. Dove?—
'From the land of Love, from the land of Love.'
And how do you get there, Mrs. Dove?—
'Look above—look above.'
'From the land of Love, from the land of Love.'
And how do you get there, Mrs. Dove?—
'Look above—look above.'
Where do you come from, Baby Miss?—
'From the land of Bliss, from the land of Bliss.'
And what is the way there, Baby Miss?—
'Mother's kiss—mother's kiss.'
'From the land of Bliss, from the land of Bliss.'
And what is the way there, Baby Miss?—
'Mother's kiss—mother's kiss.'
March MeadowsToC
A Lark:
Lark-bird, lark-bird soaring high,
Are you never weary?
When you reach the empty sky,
Are the clouds not dreary?
Don't you sometimes long to be
A silent gold-fish in the sea?
Are you never weary?
When you reach the empty sky,
Are the clouds not dreary?
Don't you sometimes long to be
A silent gold-fish in the sea?
Gold-fish, gold-fish diving deep,
Are you never sad, say?
When you feel the cold waves creep
Are you really glad, say?
Don't you sometimes long to sing
And be a lark-bird on the wing?
Are you never sad, say?
When you feel the cold waves creep
Are you really glad, say?
Don't you sometimes long to sing
And be a lark-bird on the wing?
Lambs:
O little lambs! the month is cold,
The sky is very gray;
You shiver in the misty grass
And bleat at all the winds that pass;
Wait! when I'm big—some day—
I'll build a roof to every
The sky is very gray;
You shiver in the misty grass
And bleat at all the winds that pass;
Wait! when I'm big—some day—
I'll build a roof to every
صفحة 6
fold.
But now that I am small, I'll pray
At mother's knee for you;
Perhaps the angels with their wings
Will come and warm you, little things;
I'm sure that, if God knew,
He'd let the lambs be born in May.
At mother's knee for you;
Perhaps the angels with their wings
Will come and warm you, little things;
I'm sure that, if God knew,
He'd let the lambs be born in May.
The RobinToC
When father takes his spade to dig,
Then Robin comes along;
He sits upon a little twig
And sings a little song.
Then Robin comes along;
He sits upon a little twig
And sings a little song.
Or, if the trees are rather far,
He does not stay alone,
But comes up close to where we are
And bobs upon a stone.
He does not stay alone,
But comes up close to where we are
And bobs upon a stone.
The MouseToC
Little Master Mouse,
You'd better leave this house;
Crumbs are scarce upon the floor,
And pussy sleeps behind the door.
You'd better leave this house;
Crumbs are scarce upon the floor,
And pussy sleeps behind the door.
Mousie soft and grey,
I wish you'd run away!
Cook will catch you in a trap,
And mice mayn't sit in mother's lap....
I wish you'd run away!
Cook will catch you in a trap,
And mice mayn't sit in mother's lap....