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 PR.h759 
 H781iV$
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 VILLAGE VERSES 
 
 \ t H 
 
 ETC. 
 
 liY 
 
 (^ GUY ROSLYN. 
 
 ?Loniiott : 
 MOXON & Co., PATERNOSTEE E0"\7 
 
 1876.
 
 PLYMOUl'H : 
 CJ. P. I'RIEND AND CO., CAXTON PRINTING WORKS, UNION STREET. 
 
 Hie4-i/r
 
 TO 
 
 FLORENCE MAEEYAT, 
 
 These Verses are Inscribed by the Author 
 
 IN PLEASANT REMEMBRANCE OF MANY COMMANDS 
 
 FEOM THE EDITOEIAL CHAIR 
 
 OF 
 
 "LONDON SOCIETY."
 
 C01S^E]S[TS. 
 
 PAtiK 
 
 An April Daisy ....... i 
 
 Old Bells 
 
 .... 3 
 
 Messengers in May ...... 5 
 
 Blossoming . . . . . . . 7 
 
 Spring ........ 9 
 
 Tavo Names on a Tree . . . . . n 
 
 Gloaming ........ 13 
 
 My Cottage and My Love .... 14 
 
 A Day in June ....... 16 
 
 Under a Tree ...... 18 
 
 Health and Wealth . . . . . ,20 
 
 Dusk ........ 22 
 
 Summer Eves ....... 23 
 
 Birds ........ 25 
 
 Ma'ry ........ 27 
 
 Betrothal ....... 29 
 
 Marriage Morn 
 Aftermath 
 
 31 
 
 34 
 
 Autumn Voices . . . . . . - 35 
 
 By the Orchard Wall ..... 36 
 
 Changing Pictures . . . . . -3^ 
 
 Autumn Rain ....... 41 
 
 When the Wind Blows .... 43 
 
 Winter Weather ...... 45 
 
 A Winter Night . . . . . -46
 
 VI. 
 
 Enchanted Embers . 
 A White Wood . 
 A December Daisy . 
 
 47 
 SI 
 53 
 
 £onss anti J3anatis. 
 
 Zephadee 
 
 Above Douglas Bay 
 
 Watching for Sails 
 
 A Dream of a Dream 
 
 Sigh Not So . 
 
 Looking for Love 
 
 At the Fifth Act 
 
 Not for Love 
 
 Old Love and New 
 
 Waiting for Escort 
 
 Burnt Wings . 
 
 Je Vous Adore . 
 
 Dead Days 
 
 My Lady's Favours 
 
 Simplicity 
 
 The Lady of Black Friars 
 
 Chastelard to Mary Stuart 
 
 Written in Blood 
 
 Alderliefest . 
 
 Wildermere 
 
 59 
 67 
 70 
 
 72 
 
 74 
 76 
 
 78 
 82 
 84 
 86 
 90 
 92 
 
 94 
 96 
 
 98 
 
 100 
 
 104 
 
 108 
 
 110 
 
 112 
 
 *=** The above pieces, with few exceptions, have appeared in London 
 Society, Belgravia, CasseWs Magazine, The Quiver, Ike Gentleman's 
 Magazine, St. James's, Colburn's Nezv Monthly, Tinsley's, All the 
 Year Round, Victoria, The London Magazine, The Graphic, and 
 Pictorial World. They are here republished, by permission, with 
 alterations and corrections.
 
 VILLAGE VERSES.
 
 AN APRIL DAISY. 
 
 White daisy in the growing grass, 
 Now I have lost my winter fear — 
 Pure promise of the budding year, 
 
 And pleasures that shall come to pass. 
 
 Of summer and the sun you speak. 
 Of childhood with its healthy cheek. 
 Red-ripening lips and sweet glad eyes. 
 Where truest love untainted lies, 
 Where beauty laughs, and passion shows 
 Its colour like an opening rose. 
 
 Pink-lidded harbinger of spring ! 
 You tell of swallows on the wing — 
 Swallows that are ever roaming. 
 Sailing, sinking in the gloaming, 
 And dipping in the silver stream, 
 Upon whose banks young lovers dream 
 In dim seclusion ; where the beach 
 Bends over with a graceful reach 
 
 B
 
 AN APRIL DAISY. 
 
 Unto the water's shelving 'brini ; 
 Where swarms of shining minnows swim, 
 And glide among tall taper reeds, 
 And under waving folds of weeds. 
 You speak of blue-bells in the wood, 
 Of fruitfulness and fairyhood. 
 The lady-smocks with faint blush stain 
 Shall line the brown paths of the lane ; 
 The butterflies and spring-time noise 
 Shall bless the hearts of merry boys, 
 And western winds shall smooth the curls 
 That shade the eyes of happy girls. 
 
 Gt-old- crested herald of the spring ! 
 You teU of blackbirds that shall sing 
 In secret plots of freshened green ; 
 Of walks in evening dusk, between 
 The sinking sun and rising moon, 
 When trees are full of leaves in June. 
 
 White daisy in the growing grass. 
 Now I have lost my winter fear — 
 Pure promise of the budding year. 
 
 And pleasures that shall come to pass.
 
 OLD BELLS. 
 
 After years of city toil I hear the village bells ; 
 
 They sing a new song while the old song in my mem'ry 
 
 dwells — 
 A strange new song, with strange new words that many 
 
 sorrows hring ; 
 would that I could hear again the song they used 
 
 to sing 
 When I was young, and love was young, and the green 
 
 sod's daisy stud 
 Was a sweet new thing that won the heart, and hope 
 
 was in the bud ! 
 Eing on, old bells ! sing on, sweet bells ! ring on ! for now 
 
 I hear 
 The echo of lost melodies, and distant days seem near. 
 
 Day is dying, the lake has lost the light of afternoon ; 
 Stars shine, and waters shimmer round the shadow of 
 the moon :
 
 OLD BELLS. 
 
 Ring on, old bells ! and let me dream of a morning in the 
 
 spring, 
 When I went out with my young love to hear the small 
 
 birds sing : 
 The sky was blue, the grass was green, the gorse had 
 
 spread its gold, 
 And Httle gusts of scented wind came laughing o'er the 
 
 wold. 
 Ring on, old bells ! sing on, sweet bells ! ring on ! for now 
 
 I hear 
 The echo of lost melodies, and distant days seem near.
 
 MESSENGERS IN MAY. 
 
 Again we have the young Spring, 
 When Hnnets sing and larks sing. 
 Many timid flowers are seen 
 Swelling in the new chill green. 
 Hearts be merry ! Winter sorrow 
 Shall be dead upon the morrow. 
 
 The sun show'rs, and the colour' d bow 
 Of promise, and the stars also, 
 The green sea, and the yellow sand. 
 The moving leaves, the painted land, 
 Will give new life, and hope's sweet wine 
 That makes a mortal half divine. 
 Day is conquering the night, 
 And blossom covering the bhght. 
 
 Many poets gone away 
 
 Have sung of Spring's delicious day ;
 
 MESSENGEBS IN MAY. 
 
 And many poets will sing again 
 Of gardens after summer rain — 
 Of water in the noonday blaze, 
 Of early morning's faery haze, 
 Of evening when the swallows fly 
 Under misty-coloured sky, 
 Over brooks where pinkies swim 
 Eoimd the water lily's rim. 
 
 Now the spring-time is a-coming 
 With its ditty, drone, and humming ; 
 With the nightingale and thrush. 
 And the perfume of the bush ; 
 With the roses red and white. 
 And the hawthorn red and white ; 
 With the moths and burnish'd bees, 
 And the music of the trees ; 
 And with hapjjiest, memest din, 
 Spring-time is a-coming in.
 
 BLOSSOMING. 
 
 When early blossoms dot the dell 
 With gold and white of crimson lip, 
 
 And hedges, bright with many a bell, 
 Green tassels in the water dip, 
 
 Young love is strong, and who can tell 
 
 The joy of lovers loving well ? 
 
 When Spring drops jewels in the lake, 
 And sticks around it stem and stalk, 
 
 And kingcups glimmer in the brake. 
 And blackbirds to each other talk ; 
 
 True pleasure is a lover's meed. 
 
 And love in truth is love indeed. 
 
 The fairest day- shine is begun, 
 
 The coloured tide of song and scent, 
 
 The joyous coming of the sun. 
 The time of forest merriment,
 
 BLOSSOMING. 
 
 When laughter of the birds and trees 
 Will set a lover's heart at ease. 
 
 In the lane the cowslip swells, 
 
 Boughs are amorous of the streams, 
 
 Under branching lilac bells 
 
 Lovers dream delicious dreams ; 
 
 Fairies move the leaves above, 
 
 Life were nothing without love.
 
 SPRING 
 
 'Tis Spring ! new leaves have come and fields are bright ; 
 
 Birds chirrup on the roof at blush of dawn ; 
 Young butterflies and bees have taken flight, 
 
 And crocus buds are peeping through the lawn. 
 
 'Tis Spring ! The leaves are green, and rabbits run 
 In pastures full of daisies, gold and white ; 
 
 Brooks shine like silken ribbands in the sim, 
 
 And brabble through the woodlands with delight. 
 
 'Tis Spring ! The school-boy by the river side 
 Holds out his fishing rod with anxious look ; 
 
 He sees the minnows 'mongst the cresses glide, 
 
 And fears to breathe when they come nigh his hook. 
 
 'Tis Spring ! The linnet trills and cuckoos whoot 
 From secret woody nooks at close of day ;
 
 10 SPRING. 
 
 When work is done the milk-boy blows his flute 
 Under the hedge, where merry children play. 
 'Tis Spring ! 'Tis Spring ! all ye birds that sing 
 Grive out your sweetest strains in praise of Spring !
 
 11 
 
 TWO NAMES ON A TREE. 
 
 Between the old wood and the sea 
 
 I walked three springs ago, 
 And there was one who went with me, 
 
 A friend I used to know ; 
 He said that in a few short days 
 
 He should be called to fight, 
 Away from me, in busy ways, 
 
 To make his fortune bright. 
 
 He cut our names upon a tree. 
 
 And said that we should stand, 
 When he came back again to me. 
 
 And read them hand in hand ; 
 And when we met to say farewell. 
 
 And kiss out in the rain. 
 He whispered what I might not tell 
 
 Till he came back again.
 
 12 TWO NAMES ON A TREE. 
 
 Spring buds grew into summer bloom, 
 
 And flowers were round the tree ; 
 I knew not anything of gloom, 
 
 I scarce could happier be ; 
 But autumn came, and came again, 
 
 And changed to winter strife, 
 And I have drunk the last sweet drain 
 
 From out the cup of life. 
 
 I tried to think him in the right, 
 
 But scorn came up instead — 
 How should I know that in the fight 
 
 My love had long been dead ? 
 And now, alas ! I can but plead 
 
 That strength may come to me. 
 That I may only once more read 
 
 The two names on the tree.
 
 13 
 
 GLOAMING. 
 
 Now evening, daughter of tte day and night, 
 Spreads over meadow-land a dusky shroud ; 
 
 The sun, retreating, floods the west with light, 
 And hangs a golden lamp on ev'ry cloud. 
 
 The fairy butterflies have shut their wings — 
 From secret places moths come out to flit, 
 
 Or wait in windows till the cricket sings. 
 Till doors are closed and cottage candles lit. 
 
 Nan, in a pretty cap and simple frock. 
 
 Takes in the snow-white linen from the hedge. 
 
 To damp and iron by the kitchen clock, 
 
 And think of Ned who swings the smithy sledge. 
 
 The farmer over supper falls asleep 
 
 And, snoring, dreams of turnip crops and sheep.
 
 14 
 
 MY COTTAGE AND MY LOVE. 
 
 I LOVE you, Maggie ; you are good — 
 I have a cottage in a wood, 
 With melody of boughs above ; 
 Alas ! my cot has not a love. 
 
 And throstles drink their morning wine 
 From dewy cups of eglantine, 
 And leaves make pleasant noise above — 
 Come crown my cottage and my love. 
 
 I have a httle boat to take 
 My love upon a sheltered lake, 
 If she will come and faithful provt?, 
 To share my cottage and my love. 
 
 The moon looks in the water white. 
 And nightingales sing of delight 
 And streams laugh at the stars above — 
 Come share my cottage and my love.
 
 MY COTTAGE AND MY LOVE. 15 
 
 The early larks to milkmen sing, 
 And linnets on tlie lilac swing, 
 'Mong bells of blue with blue above- 
 Come share my cottage and my love. 
 
 Come to my cot, and you will find 
 The village people good and kind : 
 At eve boys play upon the green, 
 And girls in dainty frocks are seen. 
 
 Come to my cot, and you shall see 
 The ploughman merry as may be, 
 The blacksmith in his forge as gay 
 As lovers on a morn of May. 
 
 Come to my cot, and I will show 
 My garden where geraniums grow, 
 And butterflies and belted bees 
 Kiss apple-bloom on orchard trees. 
 
 Come be my wife, and we will cull 
 From life the sweet and beautiful. 
 And earth shall shadow heaven above 
 If you will share my cot and love.
 
 16 
 
 A DAY IN JUNE. 
 
 The clouds are pink about day's golden king : 
 Cool morning gilds the east, and in the west 
 Black ghosts crawl under earth. The dingles ring 
 With new-awaken'd life. Grass blades are drest 
 In diamond drops. The bees have taken wing. 
 The lark has risen from his earthly nest. 
 The farmer has shook off his slumbering, 
 And rosy Jane has had enough of rest, 
 And comes to milk the cows, and she will sing. 
 And, smiling, think of him she loves the best. 
 
 The dazzling morn has brought a warm delight : 
 New-budded flowers deck the forest way. 
 The school-boy in the meadow flies his kite, 
 And clouds are streak'd with many a sunny ray. 
 And shining blue behind the shining white, 
 Entices weary travellers to stay,
 
 A BAY IN JUNE. 17 
 
 And sit upon the bank with daisies bright, 
 While fishes in the tepid river play, 
 And floating bubbles, fine in colour' d light, 
 Mirror in miniature the god of Day. 
 
 The peaceful evening falls : the blazing sun 
 Paints glory upon earth, and floods the sky 
 With beauty. Now the garish day is done 
 Moths in the dark'ning have come out to fly. 
 Lights ghmmer here and there. Bats have begun 
 To flit, and o'er the hills comes melody 
 Of curfew bells. The chirping crickets run 
 On cottage hearths, and dreamily on high 
 Stars gather round the moon-boat one by one, 
 And night winds sing an easeful lullaby.
 
 18 
 
 UNDER A TREE. 
 
 Though never so bright 
 
 The sun be at noon, 
 Yet I have twilight 
 And a tinkling tune — 
 Under a beech, 
 Where the boughs reach 
 Down to the rill that trickles along, 
 Playing in beads, and laughing in song ; 
 And musical sound 
 Is wafted around — 
 Coos the cuckoo, linnets sing too. 
 In the green. tree under the blue. 
 
 And soft is the light 
 Where peaceful I lie ; 
 
 And cloud-boats of white 
 Sail on in the sky ;
 
 UNDER A TREE. 19 
 
 Under my tree 
 Sit I, and see 
 A blending of bloom, a shimmer of streams 
 Chequered with shadow and shiniest gleams ; 
 And ladybirds come, 
 And yellow bees hum — 
 Young pigeons coo, throstles sing too, 
 In the green tree under the blue. 
 
 And as I beguile 
 
 The time with a book, 
 There comes by the stile 
 A maid with a look 
 Speaking of love — 
 for her glove ! 
 A word, a smile, or even a pat 
 Of her hand, or the flower from her hat ! 
 This maid must be mine : 
 Now let me not pine. 
 Sing, throstles, sing ; teach me to woo 
 By the green tree under the blue.
 
 20 
 
 HEALTH AND WEALTH. 
 
 Dear friend, if you are seeking ease, 
 Come walk about my forest trees 
 And meadows green, where rustic ways 
 Bring tranquil nights and pleasant days- 
 
 Where cowslips grow along the brake, 
 And waxen lilies gem the lake ; 
 Where rabbits through the clover run. 
 And cresses curtsey to the sun. 
 
 I know that you are in the fight 
 That lasts from morning until night ; 
 I know you struggle hard for wealth, 
 And take but little heed of health. 
 
 'Twill do you good to come and see 
 The wild blooms blowing on the lea ; 
 To rest awhile where butterflies 
 Float idly under sunny skies ;
 
 HEALTH AND WEALTH. 21 
 
 A wood where thrushes all the day 
 Sing songs to boys and girls at play ; 
 Where nightingales below the moon 
 Pipe many a trembling, throbbing tune. 
 
 I promise you the summer scent 
 Shall fill your heart with merriment ; 
 An idle week in this old wood 
 Will paint your cheeks and do you good.
 
 22 
 
 DUSK. 
 
 The misty moth-time is begun ; 
 
 Trees stand like shadows in the lanes, 
 Birds sing their farewells to the sun, 
 
 And candles shine through cottage panes : 
 And now the west glow softly wanes, 
 
 And crickets about houses run ; 
 The sky is losing all its stains — 
 
 The night comes on, and day is done. 
 
 Repose will ease the workman's pains, 
 
 And speak to him of sleep well won : 
 He walks in peace along the lanes, 
 
 That have new scent now rain is done ; 
 Stars come to full light one by one. 
 
 Between wet leaves along the lanes ; 
 He sees them as he walks, but none 
 
 Cheer him like light through cottage panes.
 
 23 
 
 SUMMER EVES. 
 
 My mind is full of memories to-day 
 
 Tliat have the music of old nursery rhymes. 
 While Kate and Totty here have been at play, 
 
 Have I been in a trance of other times — 
 Of summer eves that slid by, one by one, 
 
 Like angels passing to another land ; 
 But they have left their joys, though they are gone, 
 
 And lift the curtain with a gentle hand. 
 
 It was a summer eve when Arthur came 
 
 And spoke the things that I may not forget ; 
 The poppies then, as now, were all aflame, 
 
 And there was sweetness with the mignonette. 
 That night a new moon sailed, and spoke of truth 
 
 That should encircle all our years below : 
 Our love, like to the moon, was in its youth. 
 
 And there was hope in its faint, tender glow.
 
 24 SUMMER EVES. 
 
 A summer eve, again he came to me, 
 
 And I was joyous, who had been forlorn ; 
 We sat together by the apple-tree, 
 
 And ere he left we knew our marriage morn. 
 That night a half-moon lit the moving length 
 
 Of forest trees ; and our love, like the moon, 
 Had more of gentle light and passion's strength, 
 
 And it would come to sweeter fairness soon. 
 
 The summer eves fell into summer days. 
 
 And each bright day new happiness was bom. 
 Till we went by the quiet village ways 
 
 To Abbey Church, and it was marriage morn. 
 That night the full moon rose with glorious shine. 
 
 And showed the garden treasures at our feet ; 
 And our love, like the moon, was full and fine, 
 
 And our divine felicity complete.
 
 25 
 
 BIRDS. 
 
 TE wlio complain 
 
 Of Life, and are sad, 
 Come sit in tlie lane 
 That summer has clad 
 In green coats of moss, with flowers begem'd, 
 Bedotted by buds and with buttercups hem'd, 
 And listen to birds that flutter and flit. 
 Trilling, and singing cheroo a-twit-twit. 
 Twit-twit cheroo, cheroo a-twit-twit. 
 
 Fair days quickly run — 
 Take time as he flies. 
 And he in the sun, 
 
 'Ere sweet summer dies. 
 For beauty brings love, and joy in love lies ; 
 And what sweeter beauty than blue in the skies.
 
 26 BIRDS. 
 
 With summer "below, and gay birds to flit 
 'Mong bundles of leaves, a-siuging twit-twit, 
 Twit-twit cheroo, cberoo a-twit-twit ? 
 
 Then sit on the grass 
 
 With thy love in the lane — 
 A swain needs a lass. 
 
 And a lass needs a swain. 
 All live things and pretty in forest or field 
 Woo and are wooed, and unto love yield ; 
 And the chattering birds that flutter and flit 
 Have paired and are happy, singing twit-twit. 
 Piping, and singing cheroo a-twit-twit. 
 Twit-twit cheroo, cheroo a-twit-twit.
 
 27 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Mary can sing — 
 Not larks that float above the yellow wheat 
 Can give a touch of melody as sweet 
 
 As she can sing ; 
 Not brooks that whisper round a wood at night 
 Can give me half the passionate delight 
 
 As when my love doth sing. 
 
 Mary has eyes — 
 Not blue skies mirrored in a mountain lake 
 Can from me half such sighing homage take 
 
 As Mary's eyes ; 
 Not ocean's secret cavern-pools, that glow 
 In fairy palaces, such beauty know 
 
 As my love's bright brown eyes. 
 
 Mary has hair — 
 You may not such surpassing fairness find 
 In golden grain, that whispers to the wind,
 
 28 MARY. 
 
 As in her hair ; 
 Not moonlight sleeping on an angel's wings 
 Is half as sweet, nor aught that nature brings, 
 
 As my love's light brown hair. 
 
 Such is my love — 
 The larks that over yellow wheat-fields float 
 May to another sing as sweet a note 
 
 As does my love ; 
 But if another would her beauty know, 
 Let him unto his own fair mistress go — 
 
 Fairer is my dear love.
 
 29 
 
 BETROTHAL. 
 
 I CANNOT tell you of my joy that morn, 
 When we together walked between the com, 
 
 And sunniest beams 
 Were chasing, with soft silver- sandalled feet, 
 The gliding shadows on the golden wheat ; 
 
 Fair day of dreams ! — 
 Pure dreams prophetical, that all came true, 
 And gave me love in life and Hfe in you. 
 
 That memorable mom began the charm : 
 The gossips had our story at the farm 
 
 Ere they were told ; 
 The pigeons seemed to know we should be wed, 
 And cooed a sweet approval on the shed ; 
 
 And Isaac, old 
 And white with peaceful years, took me aside 
 To ask if I had won you as my bride.
 
 30 BETROTHAL. 
 
 I read a fairy book that afternoon, 
 
 And through the window came the breath of June, 
 
 To kiss your face, 
 And honeysuckle nesting in your hair ; 
 Your father was asleep in his big chair 
 
 By the door place : 
 Dear time of summer dusk and blossom scent. 
 Of garden walks in glad bewilderment. 
 
 I cannot tell you of my joy that night. 
 But I remember that the stars were bright, 
 
 And lilacs swung 
 To cooling wind with gentle rise and fall, 
 In moonlit clusters by the orchard wall. 
 
 Where roses hung ; 
 And I remember with new lease of life 
 I had a precious gift and called it — wife !
 
 31 
 
 MAKRIAGE MORN. 
 
 This is the sunny marriage morn 
 Of Clara Winwood, who was born 
 
 In yonder cot 
 That seems to float upon the corn — 
 Bright summer and her marriage morn ; 
 
 Would it were not ! 
 The bridegroom walks with happy stride, 
 But he has only won her pride. 
 
 She tames her love and gives her hand 
 Because he is a lord of land, 
 
 And he can ride 
 For miles and say, " All this is mine ; 
 And what is mine, my love, is thine." 
 
 And she can hide 
 Her soul, and, though her heart be cold. 
 Put on a smile to get his gold.
 
 32 MARRIAGE MORN. 
 
 There is a youth in Brinton Dell, 
 And Clara Winwood loves him well ; 
 
 And he loves her 
 Unto the very core of truth — 
 With all the passion of his youth : 
 
 And would it were 
 That he could prove true love and health 
 Are far beyond the price of wealth ! 
 
 Old women tread the churchyard grass 
 To see the bride and bridegroom pass ; 
 
 And children play 
 Round gravestones where their sisters sleep ; 
 And older children know and weep, 
 
 And turn away. 
 The gossips stand beneath the trees, 
 And watch and wait in twos and threes. 
 
 The belfry shakes, the warm air swells 
 With merry peal of bridal bells. 
 
 Alas, alas! 
 For Time will teach the bride by stealth 
 That love is richer far than wealth.
 
 MARRIAGE MORN. 33 
 
 Alas, alas ! 
 The bridegroom wlio can buy and sell 
 Shall meet the youth of Briuton Dell !
 
 34 
 
 AFTERMATH. 
 
 Come whisper in this oak, west wind, and blow 
 
 A breathing music in among the leaves 
 To soothe siesta, while haymakers throw 
 The dying grass that fairy perfume weaves ; 
 And as the jDail 
 Of frothing ale 
 Is eagerly caressed by sunburnt arms, 
 I'll dream of country life and rustic charms. 
 
 I 
 
 Come, carol in this oak, clear-throated birds. 
 And let your summer's love be in the lay ; 
 Unto the droning tune of leaves give words. 
 And in kind fellowship together play ; 
 And I will hearken 
 Till shadows darken — 
 Till all the men go home, and cloudlets swim 
 In glowing amber at the western rim.
 
 35 
 
 AUTUMN VOICES. 
 
 Spirit of mournfulness ! cTiill Autumn wind ! 
 
 Making the bare trees shiver as you blow ; 
 I think I hear you say unto mankind, 
 
 " The flowers are dead, and ye must die also." 
 
 Branches that held bloom-tassels in June's day, 
 Wither above the water's sullen flow 
 
 That sings to men of graves : " Alack-a-day ! 
 The flowers are dead, and ye must die also." 
 
 Man hears, and does not hum the merry ditty 
 That spoke his heart when hedges were aglow 
 
 With hawthorn, for the leaves say : " Pity ! pity ! 
 We die ! we die ! and ye must die also." 
 
 O wail of water ! heavy lay of leaves ! 
 
 Ye shall not sicken me ; the flowers go 
 To Paradise, where nothing dies or grieves, 
 
 Ay, there they live again — and man also.
 
 36 
 
 BY THE ORCHARD WALL. 
 
 When red autumn let the ripe apple fall. 
 
 And the tall grass caught it and laid it to rest 
 With a cool sweet kiss, in a green-covered nest, 
 
 The summer dreams sat by the orchard wall. 
 
 Side by side we sat with the dreams, 
 
 And the singing boughs in a trance 
 Sang the song of enchanted streams. 
 
 And the leaves dauced a fairy dance. 
 The sun-eyed dreams were pure to meet. 
 
 Their foreheads were fair as milk ; 
 Their hair reached down to their feet, 
 
 Like buttercuj)s spun to silk : 
 And the dreams had glorious eyes. 
 
 And kisses that charmed to a swoon : 
 They had stories of Paradise 
 
 That were as a heavenly boon ;
 
 BY THE ORG H ABB WALL. :\7 
 
 For they told not tlieii' tales in Avords, 
 But spoke to the soul in strains 
 
 Of music made by the birds 
 In unfrequented lanes. 
 
 When ripeness let the red apple fall, 
 And the cool grass caught it and laid it to rest. 
 With a gentle caress, in a shaded nest, 
 
 We sat with the dreams by the orchard wall.
 
 38 
 
 CHANGING PICTURES. 
 
 Where are tlie wild bells that were blue in May, 
 
 The roses that were red and white in June ? 
 Where are the birds that in the long sweet day 
 
 Charmed the green wood with many a merry tune ? 
 We can but say that now they are not here, 
 
 That happy hours have gone with sunny skies, 
 That bright-eyed dreams are dying with the year, 
 
 And Summer in her silver coffin hes : 
 The leaves drop silently about her head — 
 They cannot live, now that their queen is dead. 
 
 Gone is the comfort of the beechen shade. 
 The morning scent and the cool sense of ease 
 
 That came when showers in the hot days made 
 A pleasant music in the full-leaved trees. 
 
 We cannot hear the babble of the brook, 
 Or see the swallows saiUng in the sun ;
 
 CHANGING PICTURES. 39 
 
 We can but on the fading pictures look, 
 
 While the harmonious colours rot and run, 
 And watch the Loughs glow in thin autumn light, 
 Then turn as black as they before were bright. 
 
 And when the canvas is a cheerless thing, 
 
 And droumy days are full of fog again, 
 And winds that wuther in the wild nights swing 
 
 Upon the reeking poplars in the rain, 
 We'll tell old stories by the friendly fire, 
 
 And look at pictures painted by the men 
 Who sat with Summer that she might inspire 
 
 Their brains to take us back to her agen — 
 Such is their art that we have but to look 
 To be beside a blossom-covered brook. 
 
 And Winter, too, perhaps may make us smile 
 
 With his quaint drawings done in black and white, 
 And then we may forget the flow'rs awhile, 
 
 As we forget the sunshine in the night : 
 Old Winter likes to tell a ghostly tale. 
 
 And with his pictures we may win delights — 
 What think you to a good ship in a gale, 
 
 Or frosted fields aglow with cottage lights ?
 
 -10 CHANGING PICTURES. 
 
 Or skaters blown about in sleet j wind, 
 A red sun sinking in tbe mist bebind ? 
 
 And tben, bappy bope ! a bttle wbile 
 
 Will free tbe forest from its winter snow, 
 And oftentimes a beam of sun will smile 
 
 Ulion tbe grass, and warmer winds will blow :' 
 New signs will come upon us day by day, 
 
 And Spring will waken every bttle tree, 
 And all our winter tbougbts will drop away 
 
 Witb libes and new leaves ; so will it be 
 Till Summer comes witb many a woodland strain 
 To sing and paint ber pictures o'er again."
 
 41 
 
 AUTUMN RAIN. 
 
 The moriiings come witli a chill, 
 And mist by the meadow hedge ; 
 
 A cold wind creeps by the mill, 
 And tall reeds shrink in the sedge 
 
 The brook has lost the swallow, 
 And the bush has lost its may ; 
 
 On upland and in hollo w 
 There is decay. 
 
 The sparrows sit on the shed, 
 Sit and sit, and no word say ; 
 
 And the sun is blurred andjred, 
 In sky that is gloomy and gray. 
 
 Men cany a load of care — 
 Children seem sadder at play, 
 
 For in the fields that were fair 
 There is decay.
 
 42 AUTUMN BAIN. 
 
 The bare black branches shiver, 
 And shake dead leaves in the wet : 
 
 The rain is on the liver, 
 And fog in the city is set ; 
 
 And no birds fly in the air- 
 No flowers gladden the day, 
 
 For all that summer made fair 
 Is in decay. 
 
 The darkness comes, and a line 
 Of ghost-like lamps in the night, 
 
 With yellow dim lights, shine 
 On faces woefully white, 
 
 No roses to scent the air — 
 No moonlit green tree way, 
 
 For in the world that was fair 
 There is decay.
 
 43 
 
 WHEN THE WIND BLOWS. 
 
 THE dancing of the leaves, 
 When the wind hlows ! 
 And the rushing noise of trees, 
 Shouting, shrieking on the leas, 
 Like the sound of seething seas, 
 When the wind blows ! 
 
 the bending of the boughs. 
 When the wind blows ! 
 The moan and the quiver 
 Of reeds along the river — 
 That sink, and rise, and shiver — 
 When the wind blows ! 
 
 the shifting of the clouds, 
 When the wind blows ! 
 Sailing swiftly on between 
 The wide blue world and the green.
 
 44 WHEN THE WIND BLOWS. 
 
 Throwing shadows o'er the sheen, 
 When the wind blows ! 
 
 the drifting of the snow, 
 
 When the wind blows ! 
 Showuig in the cold moonlight 
 Fallen trees hid under white, 
 Like great ghosts in bed at night, 
 When the wind blows ! 
 
 the comfort of the fire, 
 
 When the wind blows ! 
 To hear the song and the chat 
 Of the kettle and the cat, 
 And the cricket on the mat, 
 When the wind blows !
 
 45 
 
 WINTER WEATHER. 
 
 The bleached snow is come, and cliill winds blow ; 
 Under tlie eaves are icicles a- row ; 
 And old men wheeze ; the village milk-pails freeze, 
 And school-boys slide to school along the leas. 
 
 Cold stars alight m the clear keen night, 
 Stare on bleak moors with earnest eyes and bright ; 
 The fire-flames leap, and thither old wives creep ; 
 The cat is curled up on the hearth asleep.
 
 46 
 
 A WINTER NIGHT. 
 
 Away sleet gliosis in wild wind go ! 
 
 And the walls are white 
 
 In the winter night, 
 And cottage windows, rimm'd with snow,. 
 
 Are red with red fire-light. 
 
 The moon sails in the stormy main, 
 
 To glide and to glance ; 
 
 And the shadows dance, 
 And fly together down the lane, 
 
 And round the haunted manse. 
 
 Here is the hamlet's quiet way ; 
 And here would I be, 
 Where the winds are free — 
 
 There is the city far away. 
 
 With lamps like lights at sea.
 
 47 
 
 ENCHANTED EMBERS. 
 
 When bright flames flicker o'er the burning coal, 
 And throw gaunt shadows on the dusky walls, 
 
 And my black cat sits by the mouse's hole 
 With two round glaring eyes like fiery balls. 
 
 Then in the ruddy, sympathetic blaze 
 
 I see old friends and live in olden days. 
 
 Live o'er again a time that was to this 
 As sunny summer is to winter's cold: 
 
 As restless troubles are compared with bliss. 
 Are present days compared with days of old. 
 
 What now is out of reach I wish it here. 
 
 And that which cannot be is doubly dear. 
 
 See, in the dreamy glamour of the grate 
 
 Come the quaint pictures of my boyhood's prime; 
 
 I swing again upon the farmer's gate, 
 
 And hear the sheep bells, and the evening chime
 
 48 ENCHANTED EMBERS. 
 
 Floating o'er gabled roofs with drowsy hum, 
 And telling of the happy days to come. 
 
 Days that have come, alas ! without the joy. 
 Without the golden hours, without the wealth, 
 
 And all the sweets I dreamt of when a boy 
 
 Full of fond hopes, and bright with rosy health, 
 
 I did not thmk of weary ways beset 
 
 With sickness, sadness, and continual fret. 
 
 I did not think on't then, nor will I now, 
 
 Although 'twill come with sunlight on the morrow — 
 Thy aid, f orgetfulness ! O teach me how 
 
 To banish all remorseful thoughts of sorrow ; 
 O let not penury have power to craze, 
 And keep calamity from out the blaze. 
 
 Ah ! now I see the house where I was born, 
 The sleepy village, and the pebbled brook ; 
 
 The meadow pathway, daisy-edged and worn. 
 The lazy mill, and many a woodland nook 
 
 Where I have lain whole hours, 'neath oak trees hoary, 
 
 Deep in the spell of some fantastic story.
 
 ENCHANTED EMBERS. 49 
 
 Dim legends that of chivalry do tell, 
 Of Arthur bold, and of the Red Cross Knight 
 
 Who OTercame the power of magic spell. 
 And with the fearful Dragon fiend did fight, 
 
 For love of that fair lady, Una hight. 
 
 And for the love of Errantry's bright light. 
 
 Why mingle in imaginary strife ? 
 
 Why dream of poets and of old world lore ? 
 Of honeyed peace and simple country life. 
 
 To make the city duller than before ? 
 No, let us not rej)ine in murky weather. 
 The sun will shine again and gild the heather. 
 
 The mystic flowers of romance have grown 
 
 To mandrakes, and no more are fi'iends of mine ; 
 
 The veil is ta'en away, and truth hath thrown. 
 The root of hemlock in the fairy wine, 
 
 And what was once a solace now destroys, 
 
 So the rude Real slays fair Fancy's joys. 
 
 Ah! . . . Hedges are just washed with April rain, 
 And shimmer softly in the noonday light,
 
 50 ENCHANTED EMBERS. 
 
 Cold sliadows chase eacL. other o'er the plain, 
 
 Coming and gliding by in dreamy flight, 
 And trembling leaves, with swelling buds between, 
 Make up a charm of blushing white and green. 
 
 And now 'tis summer, and sweet gossamer 
 Is hung from twig to twig for elves to swing 
 
 By moonlight when rude feet are not astir, 
 When bright Titania bids her birdie sing ; 
 
 When Oberon cheers the happy band, and when 
 
 Puck tells of all his gambols among men. 
 
 I see a cosy room with ivy sprays 
 
 That tap the panes and through the window peep, 
 And on the hearthrug, where a kitten inlays, 
 
 A boy sets up tin soldiers half asleep. 
 The cricket chirrups, and a tall brown clock 
 Conducts the kettle's song with steady knock. 
 
 E'en now I cannot tell you what I see — 
 
 It is too full of hazy joy to preach ; 
 If heart throbs and big tears could speak for me, 
 
 Then I should be more eloquent in speech : 
 Oh ! cherished home and friends true to the core, 
 I never knew how dear ye were before !
 
 51 
 
 A WHITE WOOD. 
 
 The wood is wliite witli feathered faus of snow, 
 And with the burden barren boughs are bent ; 
 And when the frosty winter wind doth blow, 
 A pearly dust unto the path is sent : 
 And the stream lies dead 
 In an icy bed ; 
 But fairies have covered her brow with beads, 
 And hung crystal crowns on willows and weeds ; 
 
 And in the spring 
 
 Throstles shall sing, 
 And daisies shall dot the green of the grass, 
 For girls and for boys to pluck as they pass : 
 
 And the stream shall awake 
 To rejoice in the day, 
 
 And with love-laughter shake 
 All the flowers on its way ; 
 And there shall be clusters of red and white may- 
 A fair moon by night and a fine sun by day.
 
 52 A WHITE WOOD. 
 
 But the wide wood is white 
 
 In this time of blight, 
 And the sun is but showing 
 
 A shadow of light, 
 And the darkness is growing 
 
 Before it is night. 
 
 A sadness doth fill 
 
 The dale and the hill — 
 
 The robin seems chiU 
 In the tree that is black. 
 In the wood that is stiU ; 
 
 And white in a swoon 
 
 Sun sinks, and the moon 
 Is beginning to float, 
 Like a pale phantom boat ; 
 And the cottage smoke curls up in a dream 
 
 Of despair and of doom, 
 
 And is lost in the gloom 
 That gathers and reddens the fire-light gleam. 
 
 Let us leave this white wood, and thoughts that are dire, 
 For the warmth of the hearth and the flame of the fire.
 
 53 
 
 A DECEMBER DAISY. 
 
 Lone daisy dying in the winter wind, 
 
 Did I not touch you in the early year ? 
 Or was it one I may no longer find 
 
 That graced the gay green where you now appear ? 
 About dead leaves were hanging new blue-bells ; 
 
 The brook was singing in the wood, and oft 
 I heard the cuckoo call from distant dells 
 
 To young birds learning carols in the croft. 
 
 But now old men, that in the summer day 
 
 Sat sunning on the ale-bench by the wall. 
 Are shut indoors to nod dark hours away, 
 
 And listen to the bits of snow that fall 
 Down the short cottage chimney. Summer's fire 
 
 That warmed the heart is out ; her flowers are lost, 
 And crushed with moorland moss to moorland mire, 
 
 And burnt with coals or chilled to death with frost.
 
 54 A DECEMBER DAISY. 
 
 But you are left, though what were sighing, trees 
 
 Are now black fiends, and shake down ghostly songs 
 That withering winds bring from the winter seas, 
 
 Where ships go down and mortals die in throngs. 
 Why are you here when all your mates are gone 
 
 To that bright ' londe of f aeiy ' whence they came ? 
 Are you a failing and forgotten one 
 
 That may not have a place nor yet a name ? 
 
 It may be so, for I remember well 
 
 You brought to mind a sweet and healthy child 
 When you were young ; but now you seem to tell 
 
 Of some poor girl forgotten and defiled. 
 When winds came lightly on you from the south, 
 
 Your petals all were fresh from core to end. 
 And full of honey for the spoiler's mouth, 
 
 But in your need you cannot gain a friend. 
 
 And why should I stand in the misty rain. 
 And talk to you that cannot give reply ? 
 
 Why should I with a sicken' d soul complain. 
 Because a little daisy will not die ? 
 
 The next cart-wheel that meets you with a groan 
 May crush you to a grave beneath the rut ;
 
 A DECEMBER DAISY. 55 
 
 Then why should I stand here and make a moan 
 As though the senses of my eyes were shut ? 
 
 It is because I may not lose the past, 
 
 And quite forget the sweet things that have heen ; 
 'Tis true the winter gloom has overcast 
 
 The land, and blacken' d branches that were green ; 
 But I must still remember summer lanes, 
 
 And think with thanks of birds that used to sing, 
 And you are dearer, brighter for your stains, 
 
 Amongst the happy mem'ries of the spring. 
 
 You cannot die, and you have not enough 
 
 Of fairness left to tempt a truant hand 
 To pluck you from the daddock in the clough. 
 
 And give your spirit to the summer land : 
 Come, I will free you. from your prison tree, v 
 
 And for old days will bless you as I bow ; 
 When there is nothing left on earth for me 
 
 May I be taken as I take you now.
 
 SONGS AND BALLADS.
 
 59 
 
 ZEPHADEE. 
 
 The baron sat among Ms guests — 
 They drank the ruby wine, 
 
 And ember light showed faces bright, 
 And made the goblets shine. 
 
 Witch-cries rode ramjmnt on the wind, 
 Down came the drenching rain ; 
 
 The guests drank on, and every one 
 Filled full his cn-p again. 
 
 The baron had his daughter there — 
 
 She sat at his right hand. 
 And bosoms swelled when eyes beheld 
 
 The love of all the land. 
 
 Her face was as a lady-smock, 
 
 Eed fainting in the white ; 
 Ay, she was fair and debonnair — 
 
 Thrice worthy any knight.
 
 60 ZEPHADEE. 
 
 No lips had ever won ber heart, 
 
 Though lips had often said, 
 " Sweet Angelina, wilt thou he mine ? " 
 
 And she had turned her head. 
 
 Now while loud laughter drowned the jest, 
 And brown beer drowned despight, 
 
 A mmstrel came in Jesus' name 
 For shelter from the night. 
 
 " What is thy name ? " the baron said ; 
 
 " A minstrel seemest thou ; 
 An' thou dost bring a song to sing, 
 
 Thou shalt be served, I trow." 
 
 " Good master of the festal throng, 
 
 I come from Paynim strand, 
 And I will sing of our brave king 
 
 Who fights in Holyland." 
 
 " What is thy name ?" the baron cried. 
 
 " I come from far-off strand." 
 " Now, fire and flame, what is thy name ? " 
 
 " I come from Fairyland."
 
 ZEPRADEE. (\ I 
 
 Fierce anger lit the baron's brow ; 
 
 He shouted, sword in hand, 
 With scoffing breath, " Take him to death ! 
 
 He comes from Fairyland." 
 
 The minstrel moved nor eye nor limb, 
 
 But said as he did stand, 
 " Drop down thy sword ujjon the board : 
 
 I come from Fairyland." 
 
 " Take him to death ! " the baron cried. 
 
 The minstrel one word spake : 
 Down dropped the sword upon the board, 
 
 And all but one did quake. 
 
 Then joy was in the muistrel's eye ; 
 
 " Come hither, Angeline ; 
 My name to thee is Zephadee ; 
 
 I would that thou wert mine, 
 
 " For I have searched through Fairyland 
 
 For one as fair as thee, "' 
 And none but thou, and this I vow, 
 
 Hath charmed Zephadee."
 
 <32 ZEPHADEE. 
 
 She looked into Lis face and saw 
 
 The lover of her dreams : 
 " Yea, I am thine, thy Angeline, 
 
 Thou lover of my dreams. 
 
 " I knew that thou wouldst come for me 
 
 In sweet love-land to roam, 
 Where fairies play by night and day 
 
 Ahout thy palace home." 
 
 The guests were bounden by a sj^ell ; 
 
 They could not laugh nor fi'own ; 
 If one held up a brimming cup 
 
 He could not lay it down. 
 
 The minstrel turned him to the guests. 
 
 And took away the charm : 
 " I came not here to bring ye fear, 
 
 Or work ye any harm. 
 
 " I came to seek a maiden's smile, 
 
 And find my wonder joy — 
 Fair Angeline for aye is mine, 
 
 And our love may not cloy.
 
 ZEPHADEE. 63 
 
 " Now let the wine go round again, 
 
 And to this festal band 
 I straight will tell what thing befel 
 
 That won me Fairyland. 
 
 " I journeyed long from Palestine, 
 
 And came to Britain's shore ; 
 (Sit, love, by me, thy Zephadee, 
 
 And I will tell thee more.) 
 
 " I sang of deeds in Holy land — 
 
 I sang of Eichard's fame, 
 And by the sea there came to me 
 
 A grey man, old and lame. 
 
 " That old grey-bearded man came close, 
 
 And took me by the hand ; 
 ' Wilt sing again to me that strain, 
 
 And win thee Fairyland ? ' 
 
 " I laughed because his words seemed strange, 
 
 And laughing loosed his hand : 
 I sang again to him that strain, 
 
 And won me Fairyland.
 
 (51 ZEPHABEE. 
 
 " Give me tliy child, and I will give 
 Wliate'er thou mayst demand ; 
 
 At dawn of day we'll sail away 
 Unto the Summer land. 
 
 " There all that is, is surely best, 
 
 There love is love indeed. 
 And care is not in that fair spot, 
 
 And sorrows do not bleed. 
 
 " All that are in the isle of bliss, 
 
 Delight in every day. 
 Ah ! ye who tread in daily dread 
 
 Know not how blest are they." 
 
 The baron his yoimg daughter gave 
 
 Unto that stranger guest, 
 " And now," said he, " give thou to me 
 
 The thing that is the best." 
 
 " When shines the full moon on the earth, 
 
 Shall be what is the best : 
 Sweet Angeline, now thou art mine. 
 
 And joy is with my quest."
 
 ZEPSADEE. 65 
 
 Proud Zepliadee and Angeliue 
 Watched for the lagging day ; 
 
 The morning came with sun aflame, 
 And gold was on the bay. 
 
 A rosy bark with silken sails 
 Danced lightly in the wind ; 
 
 The lovers too went o'er the blue, 
 And left the land behind. 
 
 Upon the castle's battlements. 
 The baron's guests did stand. 
 
 And watched them glide upon the tide 
 Away to Fairyland. 
 
 Away ! away ! in the golden morn ! 
 
 Toward the west away ! 
 The bark swept on and they were gone 
 
 For ever and for aye ! 
 
 The baron waited for the moon, 
 
 The fvJl moon in the sky ; 
 The sun set thrice, and then his eyes 
 
 Beheld the moon on high.
 
 66 ZEPHABEE. 
 
 He looked thereon with anxious face, 
 Now ! now he would be blest ! 
 
 He fell away fi-om dark and day, 
 For death it is the best.
 
 67 
 
 ABOVE DOUGLAS BAY. 
 
 A STRIP of primeval land in the seas, 
 
 Where Progi*ess has rested, but little done 
 Since the monkish days of the dead Culdees 
 
 (Though the iron horse is learning to run) ; 
 An island apart from the fretful throng — 
 
 From the sound of trade and the hiss of steam, 
 Where the jaded may hear a healthy song, 
 
 And dream in a place that is fit for a dream. 
 
 There is Douglas town ; it is white with sun ; 
 
 And below, where the lights and shades are blent. 
 The waves go a- wooing the rocks, and run 
 
 In tides of colour, of song, and of scent. 
 A world to live in ! There are fields and floods. 
 
 With the song of birds and the song of seas, 
 And hills majestic that stretch to the woods. 
 
 Where the oxlips blow, and swing the brown bees.
 
 68 ABOVE DOUGLAS BAY. 
 
 A canorous Aviud sweeps up to the bill, 
 
 Like a winged organ for ears cliviue, 
 With the muffled tones of a cavern rill, 
 
 And breath like a floating draught of wine : 
 With a kiss that is soft as the touch of silk, 
 
 It comes with a thought that is sweet and cool, 
 Like the rain after drought, or warm new milk, 
 
 Or the voices of children singing in school. 
 
 The ships are rocking themselves to rest ; 
 
 And the bay, with its crescent of shining sand. 
 Is lit with the waning light of the west, 
 
 Like a piece of sky let down on the land. 
 Or a charmful glass in a golden frame. 
 
 Where all men may gaze, and some men may know 
 That, while they look up to life without blame. 
 
 They may find the shadow of it below. 
 
 The great Sun he gathers his gold, and soon 
 His wraith will wander over the waves : 
 
 Now, the tide is going to meet the moon, 
 
 And runs from the coves and the weeded caves ; 
 
 It slips from the sands inwoven with hght. 
 And the floor of the bay is sleek and bare.
 
 ABOVE DOUGLAS BAY. 69 
 
 And summer twilight, the daughter of Night 
 Aud of Day, looks into a mirror there. 
 
 ^ ^ 'JV T*" * 
 
 After the noon-hlaze, in the breathful eve, 
 
 The many ' folk of holiday ' come out ; 
 And lovers saunter on the pier, and leave 
 
 The gossip of their friends, to walk ahout 
 The dark'ning shore, where they will nothing say, 
 
 And, though in search of shells, will nothing seek, 
 And feel that it is pleasant so to stray 
 
 In close companionship, and nothing speak. 
 
 Like to a glorious fairy ship afloat, 
 
 With one great sail of light the moon is come ; 
 And people sit in waiting for the boat 
 
 That brings new friends and messages from home : 
 Though there be joys in weeks of quiet life, 
 
 With Mona's many riches to beguile. 
 The ship that comes from England aud its strife, 
 
 Will make the truants in the darkness smile.
 
 70 
 
 WATCHING FOR SAILS. 
 
 The morning moaned with sweeping rain ; 
 The wind shrieked with the raging main, 
 He took the seagulls in his hand, 
 And, laughing, blew them back to land. 
 
 The gulls went out again in glee, 
 
 To be carried across the sea ; 
 
 The wind he puffed them from his hand, 
 
 Like bits of paper back to land. 
 
 The fishermen went out at night ; 
 The herring-smacks are not in sight — 
 The wives are paled with tempest wails, 
 And watch with full eyes for the sails. 
 
 The big waves run against the rocks 
 As they would wake them with their shocks ; 
 And still the wives stand in the rain, 
 And look for sails at early wane.
 
 WATCHING FOR SAILS. 71 
 
 Tlie rain it rained and the wind it blew 
 
 All day until the darkness grew ; 
 
 Storm voices then together screamed, 
 
 And still wives watched as though they dreamed. 
 
 The herring-smacks are in from sea ! 
 The fishermen are home at tea ; 
 The bairns their little prayers have said, 
 And go in clean white gowns to bed.
 
 72 
 
 A DREAM OF A DREAM. 
 
 O FOB a bed of buttercups, to rest 
 
 Therein, and watcla the summer swallows pass j 
 And see the meadow-flowers I love the best 
 Among the fairy forests of the gi'ass ; 
 That I might seem, 
 
 Without regret, 
 In a fair dream 
 Of Margaret: 
 To hold her white warm hand and read her smile, 
 And feel her kiss again beside the stile ! 
 
 O for one hovir underneath a hedge, 
 
 With boughs of full-blown may-bloom overhead, 
 Clear water blowing bubbles in the sedge, 
 And waving weeds above its pebble bed 
 To sink down deep, 
 With sun above,
 
 A DREAM OF A DREAM. 73 
 
 And have, in sleep, 
 This dream of love — 
 
 Of love that was, and may not be again ; 
 Of dear heart-love before it grew to pain ! 
 
 If the delusion old delight could bring, 
 
 And let me hear the gentle maiden voice 
 Speak what was spoken once to me, and sing 
 The song that made my soul wake to rejoice, — 
 Though after sleep 
 
 Came aching truth. 
 To bid me weep 
 In bitter inith, — 
 Yet would I walk again my shadow' d way 
 Ten years, to dream the dream another day.
 
 74 
 
 SIGH NOT SO. 
 
 Sigh not so for summer weather — 
 For the hot sun and the blaze 
 
 Of the bloom upon the heather ; 
 
 Sigh not so for summer weather, 
 And the glory of long days. 
 
 Winter holds a friendly hand, 
 
 With a quaint book of romance, 
 Written in old Wonderland, 
 While the fairies, hand in hand. 
 
 Joined their laughter with the dance. 
 
 There are flow'rs of purest white 
 In his book, and you may find 
 Pictures painted in the night, 
 When the land with snow was white. 
 And the trees were bent with wind.
 
 SIGH NOT SO. 75 
 
 Many ballads of the brave — 
 
 Many legends of the just — 
 Many songs for love to save, 
 Sung in castles of the brave 
 That have crumbled into dust. 
 
 Sigh not so for summer weather — 
 
 For the sun, and greenwood ways ; 
 Let us go along together, 
 Thankful for the winter weather. 
 And the promise of new days.
 
 7G 
 
 LOOKING FOR LOVE. 
 
 As a fisherman looks out over the Lay 
 
 For a ship that comes from sea, 
 I look for my love from day to day, 
 
 But my love comes not to me. 
 
 Who is the maid that the finger of fate 
 
 Has given, and where lives she ? 
 How long shall I linger, and hope, and wait, 
 
 Before she will come to me ? 
 
 Or have I no love, and shall I be blown 
 
 Like a lost boat out to sea ? 
 No, pleasure and peace shall be my own, 
 
 And my love shall come to me. 
 
 And when and where shall I know my sweet doom. 
 
 Indoors or where flowers grow ? 
 WiU the pear trees all be white with bloom, 
 
 Or will they be white with snow ?
 
 LOOKING FOR LOVE. 77 
 
 Have I ever heard of your uame in talk ? 
 
 Or seen you a child at play ? 
 Are you fair, my love, and where do you walk ? 
 
 Is it near or far away ? 
 
 Come, my love, while my heart is in the south, 
 
 While youth is about my ways — 
 I will run to meet you and kiss your moutb, 
 
 And bless you for all my days.
 
 AT THE FIFTH ACT. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 A PLAY, whereof the scenes are bitter-sweet, 
 
 Is acted in young days of ardent truth 
 By modest maidens fair from face to feet, 
 
 And by their worshippers, aspiring youth. 
 The first act is as welcome as the sight 
 
 Of a new moon looking through a wood in spring ; 
 The second act and third are full of light, 
 
 And summer warmth and scent of blossoming ; 
 The fourth act is the eve of hai-vest-day, 
 
 When love, large-hearted, beats to melody ; 
 And then the doubtful fifth act ends the play, 
 
 And makes it comedy or tragedy. 
 
 ACT L 
 
 Our life is as a wood of fairy fame, 
 
 Where you may enter and behold the spring.
 
 AT THE FIFTH ACT. 79 
 
 And farther on see summer bloom aflame, 
 
 And hear the bii'ds that through the long days sing. 
 Anon you come to where the late lights blend, 
 
 And find the colour'd autumn trees aglow. 
 Such is the fairy wood ; and at the end 
 
 Are brumal boughs and banks all white with snow. 
 Amelia Wetherland, with eyes of truth, 
 
 Began the strange walk through the changing wood, 
 And at the entrance met a merry youth, 
 
 With sweet surprise of early womanhood. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 On Edward Thorpe love like a kind dream fell ; 
 
 A moment in a sudden maze he stood, 
 While passion's piping prelude woo'd him well. 
 
 And with fine glamourie becharm'd the wood ; 
 He lost the fair sight, but the precious strain 
 
 Of silent music slid into his heart. 
 To be remember' d aye, and to remain 
 
 His winter sunshine or his summer smart. 
 But there were many pathways, and again 
 
 They met, and were not mute ; nor did he miss 
 The sweetest sweet that he might wish to gain — 
 
 Love quite at love with love, and kiss with kiss.
 
 80 AT THE FIFTH ACT. 
 
 ACT III, 
 
 Amelia met another youtli, with eyes 
 
 Of graver greeting, and of softer speech ; 
 And he had subtle songs of mysteries, 
 
 And wisdom truths romantic he could teach. 
 His name was Gilbert Grray, and never wight 
 
 Was bound in love with stronger sweeter band. 
 He saw her eyes, and, dreaming in the Hght, 
 
 He knew he loved Ameha Wetherland. 
 Nor had she for his love antipathy, 
 
 But a new passion that had quickly grown ; 
 So that she gave him her full sympathy. 
 
 And his red bud of promise was broad blown. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 But Edward came again, and simple love 
 
 Grew dearer than the days of deeper truth ; 
 And Gilbert, who had sat with stars above. 
 
 Was quite forsaken for another youth. 
 To-morrow morning, and the bridal band 
 
 Will be glad-hearted for the marriage-day 
 Of Edwai'd and Amelia Wetherland, 
 
 And all will think of happiness who may ;
 
 .IT THE FIFTH ACT. 81 
 
 Love that is lost may turn a darker way, 
 And Gilbert he is sunk in malady. 
 
 So ends the fourth act ; morrow ends the play- 
 Will it he comedy or tragedy ?
 
 82 
 
 NOT FOR LOVE. 
 
 Helen was fair indeed, and I was free ; 
 But that which had Ibeen was not so to be — 
 My heart awoke, and Helen smiled on me ; 
 
 But not for love. 
 In winter deep I dreamt of summer shine, 
 And all my hopes were false as they were fine. 
 
 And I was happy then as I might be : 
 
 Warm spring had painted every field and tree ; 
 
 And Helen sang sweet ditties unto me ; 
 
 But not for love. 
 And I had looked upon her budded youth 
 As on a book of innocence and truth. 
 
 And knowing not of poison in the wine, 
 I said, ' And may I link my life with thine ? ' 
 She whispered, * Yes,' and placed her hand in mine ; 
 
 But not for love.
 
 NOT FOB LOVE. 83 
 
 And I was in a sweet swoon of delight, 
 
 And thought it daytime in the depth of night. 
 
 'Twas coming soon, too soon, when I should keep 
 My days in darkness and my eyes from sleep ; 
 When Helen, without sorrowing, should weep, 
 
 And not for love. 
 O that a maid should sigh upon her glove, 
 And mimic fondness where there is no love !
 
 Si 
 
 OLD LOVE AND NEW. 
 
 If Edith use me as a toy 
 
 To kill an idle day, 
 Or look upon me as a boy, 
 
 To call or send away ; 
 If slie be fickle as the wind. 
 
 Then I'll be fickle too. 
 And leave her soon, that I may find 
 
 Another maid to woo. 
 
 If Fanny care not for a sigh. 
 
 And laugh at all my love, 
 I will not plead again and cry 
 
 For pity from above ; 
 If she no longer can be kind. 
 
 Then I'll be kindless too, 
 And leave her soon, that I may find 
 
 Another maid to woo.
 
 OLD LOVE AND NEW. S.> 
 
 If Katie who did kiss me once 
 
 In eai-ly courtship days, 
 Should teach me I was but a dunce 
 
 To trust her wanton ways— 
 If she shoukl learn to change her mind, 
 
 Then I will change mine too, 
 And leave her soon, that I may find 
 
 Another maid to woo. 
 
 If Mary tell me to my face 
 
 She hath no love for me. 
 Then earth is but a prison place 
 
 Of daily misery. 
 If she be careless as the wind, 
 
 Still will my soul be true : 
 I love her so, I may not find 
 
 Another maid to woo.
 
 86 
 
 WAITING FOR ESCORT. 
 
 How full of loss is love ! A fair girl's face 
 
 For lack of lover's lips may lose its light ; 
 And souls astray, that seek in vain the place 
 
 Where their love lies, may never live aright. 
 And when two kindred hearts in courtship meet, 
 
 And in the crowd unto each other cling, 
 He may he slowly drawn to other feet. 
 
 And she may hear a wealthy, wise man sing. 
 How many, without doubt, go hand in hand 
 
 Across the waves of passion's restless sea. 
 And find contentment in a quiet land ? — 
 
 I dare not think how many such there be. 
 A maiden by the flutter of her fan 
 May spoil the strong hfe of a bearded man. 
 
 II. 
 
 And yet how full of gain is love ! Ah me ! 
 What other thing could wear us to our woes
 
 WAITING FOR ESCORT. 87 
 
 When all our ways are strewn with treachery, 
 
 And we have friends who are but smiling foes ? 
 How could we live by them, and near them sleep, 
 
 And still find happy moments of relief ? 
 How could we from their throats our fingers keep, 
 
 But that the house of love would come to grief ? 
 And when our j^aths are clear, and fleck'd with sun. 
 
 And radiant flow'rs in moss-grown gardens lie, 
 Where peaceful days harmoniously run, 
 
 Love is the only sweet that will not die : 
 A faithful maid, and then a loving wife, 
 May give the poorest man the richest life. 
 
 III. 
 
 And yet how full of loss ! Eliza Lisle, 
 
 Long have I watch'd you in your maidenhood ; 
 And I have seen you by a careless smile 
 
 Bring to the cheek a young man's eager blood. 
 When Donald came to woo your Spanish face, 
 
 I thought that some day he would come to wed : 
 I know the night you promised, and the place, 
 
 And you were happy, though you no word said. 
 When morning woke with sparkle of wet grass. 
 
 And thin light on late summer's fading bloom.
 
 88 WAITING FOR ESCORT. 
 
 You saw your face all laughter in the glass, 
 
 And sang a ballad ere you left your room — 
 Then like a beggar he must come, and so 
 You turned, and, like a beggar, let him go. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There is deep winter now in Donald's purse, 
 
 And in your thoughts he cannot play a part ; 
 But you have brought on him a greater curse. 
 
 And placed the depth of winter in his heart. 
 The thing you call your love is made, it seems. 
 
 Of such fine stuff it must have daintj^ fai*e ; 
 And now Sir Dummy Dawdle has sweet dreams. 
 
 Because you let him sit in Donald's chair. 
 He carries keys to open eveiy door 
 
 That leads to gaiety and easy life, 
 And you may leave behind the staring poor, 
 
 And be a silk and satin, scented wife. 
 Love you your true love, be he rich or poor, 
 But do not leave him when he has no more. 
 
 V. 
 
 This is a night of triumph, 'Liza Lisle ; 
 
 In your dark face your eyes like stars are set ;
 
 WAITING FOB ESCORT. 89 
 
 Youl' pretty moutli has moved with mauy a smile 
 
 This day — this day that you will not forget. 
 N'ow you at last are ready for the ball, 
 
 In swathing clouds, a beautiful brunette ; 
 Why hastens not your lover through the hall 
 
 To look with pride upon his little pet ? 
 He will not please you more with song or jest ; 
 
 You will not dance to-night, nor hear the band — 
 He has a broken dagger in his breast, 
 
 And Donald has the red haft in his hand. 
 Now, lady, live the next hour as you may — 
 You laugh, but it is Donald comes this way.
 
 90 
 
 BURNT WINGS. 
 
 How deep a life has love ! Three years of pain 
 
 Have not aroused me from my overthrow ; 
 Three summers washed with show'rs of scented rain — 
 
 Three winters whitened with the silent snow, 
 Have left me comfortless, and like to one 
 
 Who stands half conscious in a crowded street, 
 And seeking for his mem'iy that is gone, 
 
 Forgets the purpose that should guide his feet. 
 where is Pity, that a maid should say 
 Sweet things unfelt and blight a life in play ? 
 
 And where is Eeason, that a man should cling 
 To dead dreams and delusions of his youth ; 
 
 Is life so small that I may only sing 
 
 One song, and die because of one untruth ? 
 
 No, I am young in God's great wilderness 
 
 Of beauties ; why then faint upon the brink ?
 
 BURNT TFJNGS. 91 
 
 I will go forward for new happiness, 
 
 And in the search forget the broken link. 
 Forget ? I do forget myself in deed, 
 To think that Eeason should have pow'r to plead. 
 
 On such a quest how find Promethean sparks, 
 
 With passions locked up and the gold key lost ; 
 I should mistake all weathercocks for larks, 
 
 And meadow mist of Summer morn for frost. 
 I cannot bid one half my heart be still, 
 
 And if I could, it is not in my power ; 
 A maid to gratify her own sweet will. 
 
 Asked for my love to wear it as a flower — 
 
 what a hope of joy ! What need to say 
 
 1 gave it, and she flung the thing away.
 
 92 
 
 JE VOUS ADORE. 
 
 I WILL not say you're fairer far 
 Thau angels that in heaven are ; 
 I will not falsely flatter you, 
 But I will tell you what is true — 
 
 Je VOUS adore. 
 Mon amie chcrie, je vous adore. 
 
 I knew you for a little while — 
 I heard your voice, I saw you smile ; 
 And as you moved among the thi-ong, 
 I looked, and learnt this two-lino song — 
 
 Je vous adore, 
 Mon amie cht'rie, je vous adore. 
 
 The night died out, the morning came, 
 The big sun set the sea aflame :
 
 JE VOUS ADORE. 93 
 
 We walked together on the sands, 
 
 And waves sang as we joined our hands — 
 
 Je vous adore. 
 Mon amie churie, je vous adore. 
 
 Dim evening faded into night, 
 The yellow moon turned small and white. 
 And, floating o'er the trees, the chime 
 Of curfew bells breathed out the rhyme — 
 
 Je vous adore, 
 Mon amie chcrie, je vous adore. 
 
 When sails the ship that brings me home 
 To friends, and fields we used to roam. 
 Will it be well for me to sing 
 This posy of a lover's ring — 
 
 Je vous adore, 
 Mon amie chcrie, je vous adore.
 
 94 
 
 DEAD DAYS. 
 
 I CANNOT let lost life with lost years go — 
 I must look back to what 1 used to know, 
 
 And looking weep ; 
 I must remember that my double life 
 Of happiness is now a single strife, 
 
 And that you sleep 
 All through the longest days of summer glow, 
 And through the longest nights of winter snow. 
 
 Love played with us in childhood, and he came 
 Along with us in after days the same, 
 
 With joy and rest ; 
 The pleasant months grew into changing years, 
 And changing pleasures chided little fears 
 
 From our sweet nest : 
 I must remember that my whole life grew 
 In fairer, purer ways, because of you.
 
 BEAD DAYS. nr> 
 
 I cannot help my heart, my tears must flow, 
 And though the sun is on me, I must know 
 
 A day that died ; 
 The frightened clock ran down — oh, bitter spite ! — 
 From twelve at noon to twelve o'clock at night ; 
 
 And fever-eyed, 
 I live in body, but my heart is dead 
 Like a dry leaf upon a spider's thread. 
 
 My Dorothy, the days shall dawn again. 
 And purity shall come because of pain — 
 
 The hours shall rise : 
 Old tears shall be prophetic of the true. 
 And clouds of white shall float beneath the blue ; 
 
 And your brown eyes 
 Shall open on me for our long love's sake. 
 And under your sweet gaze I shall awake.
 
 9G 
 
 MY LADY'S FAVOURS. 
 
 You have not seen my Bessie ? — beauty Bess — 
 
 She is a shrew, a very pretty shrew ; 
 Cheeks like a blush rose leaf, sweet eyes and lips, 
 Belong to Bessie, and she knows it, too, 
 
 And it has taught her coquetry. 
 She will not be what I would be— 
 If I be so, why then so is not she. 
 
 If I am shy at Bessie, bonny Bess, 
 
 She looks and laughs, and is not shy at me ; 
 But if I show her that I am not shy. 
 She glances down, and very shy is she ; 
 
 There's nought, not even flattery, 
 Will bid her be as I would be — 
 If I do so, why then so does not she. 
 
 If I but smile at Bessie, beauty Bess, 
 
 Straightway she turns aside and seems amiss,
 
 MY LADY'S FAVOURS. 97 
 
 But if I seem amiss and go away, 
 
 She comes with loving looks to beg a kiss ; 
 Nor coolness nor civility 
 Will bid her be as I would be — 
 
 If I agree, why then so does not she. 
 
 If I be dull, my Bessie, beauty Bess, 
 
 Will mock a sigh, and titter and be glad ; 
 If I be boisterous and very blythe, 
 O very still is she and very sad ! 
 
 Big boldness nor meek modesty 
 WiU bid her be as I would be ; 
 If I would so, why then so would not she. 
 
 And yet I love my Bessie, birdie Bess, 
 And I shall ask a question, if a nay 
 Be her reply, I'll tell her woman's nay 
 Is but a yea, so be it nay or yea, 
 
 'Twill bid her be as I would be. 
 So once I think we shall agree. 
 And when I go to church why so will she. 
 
 E
 
 98 
 
 SIMPLICITY. 
 
 With braided hair, a gentle girl. 
 
 In hazel nook, 
 
 Beside a Lrook 
 Flowing in many a playful twirl. 
 
 And by her side a bonny boy 
 
 (Whose woolly breed 
 
 At leisure feed) 
 Saith she may fill his years with joy. 
 
 No titles, gilded halls, or wealth, 
 
 No marriage dower — 
 
 A kiss, a flower, 
 No blessings save content and health. 
 
 '■o'- 
 
 Two children of forgotten race. 
 When men were good. 
 And woman's blood 
 The only colouring for her face.
 
 SIMPLICITY. 9» 
 
 How sweet to leave the noisy strife, 
 And dwell with thee 
 Simplicity : 
 Love lasting and a quiet life !
 
 100 
 
 THE LADY OF BLACK FRIARS. 
 
 The trees all silent in the blue morn stood, 
 
 And frosted leaves were lit with many lights 
 Of suns in miniature, when through the wood 
 
 Rode first King James of Scotland and his knights : 
 Their hearts were bent upon a feast at Perth — 
 
 A time to love a lady and be merry ; 
 And they were full of badinage and mirth, 
 
 Until the white road took them to the fen-y ; 
 Then laughter left them, for a woman came 
 With evil speech, and called the king by name. 
 
 She faced them all, and raised her bony hand. 
 And lifted up her wan and wither'd face : 
 
 ' My lord, the great King of the Northern Land, 
 This ferry leads unto your burial-place ! 
 
 Seek not for Charon and his boat of death, 
 Nor laugh at my foreknowledge of the truth ;
 
 THE LADY OF BLACK FRIARS. 101 
 
 Your life is but a thing of one day's breath, 
 
 If you reck not the warning word of Ruth : 
 I am a prophetess, and know the sorrow 
 That may or may not come upon the morrow.' 
 
 He laugh'd aloud, but in his heart was fear, 
 
 For in a book of mystery he had read 
 A king in Scotland should be slain that year, 
 
 And he bethought the year was nearly dead ; 
 But how could he, in all his bravery, 
 
 Confess before his knights in humble voice 
 That he had faith in woman's dreamery ? — 
 
 The king of power could not be king of choice ; 
 And so he cross'd the river, and she stood 
 In silence watching them on Charon's flood. 
 
 *-tf. 4U ^ ^ •l^ 
 
 TT W "IP •«• TP 
 
 The winter moon on sleeping thorpes look'd down, 
 And show'd the traveller distant halls and spires ; 
 
 Keen frost went silently about the town, 
 
 And silver'd o'er the Abbey of Black Friars. 
 
 Inside the abbey love danced in the halls. 
 And firelight on fair faces threw its gloss ;
 
 102 THE LADY OF BLACK FRIARS. 
 
 Outside, where ivy on the aged walls 
 
 Had written legends that were bound with moss, 
 A woman stood, a diddering sad thing, 
 Shut out because she went to warn the king. 
 
 * For well I know,' she said, ' that on this night 
 
 Comes Graham from the mountains with his men ; 
 The king, because he does not heed the light, 
 
 Shall never see the sun or me again.' 
 The king had sent the prophetess away, 
 
 And he was telling gxiests, with wine made merry. 
 How the mad crone had met him on that day. 
 
 And dared him and his knights to cross the ferry ; 
 But ere he ended, hearts were struck with fear. 
 For noise of men in armour they could hear ! 
 
 Then came the clash of swords in wild uproar, 
 And torches flash' d the windows with red light ; 
 
 * Conceal- the king, and double bolt the door, 
 
 Till he has time to fit himself for flight ! ' 
 The bolt was gone ! the men were hot in chase ! 
 
 Then Catherine Douglas ran to make or mar. 
 And with celestial beauty in her face 
 
 Lifted her arm and placed it as a bar !
 
 THE LADY OF BLACK FRIARS. 103 
 
 A moment more, and swords were througli to wrench 
 The door, but she stood there and did not blench ; 
 
 Until her arm was broken, and she fell 
 
 With pallid mouth aswoon upon the floor ; 
 And then rush'd in the ruthless hounds of hell, 
 
 To make the feasting scene a scene of gore. 
 None thought of that brave lady who had done 
 
 A deed full worthy of her Douglas blood. 
 December's dreary days were well-nigh run — 
 
 The year was passing to oblivion's flood, 
 But ere it went out with the sobbing rain, 
 'Twas known a king in Scotland had been slain.
 
 104 
 
 CHASTELARD TO MARY STUART. 
 
 Dear heart, I bless you for this parting grace. 
 
 That is as sunshine on a winter day ; 
 Now that last looks may he upon your face, 
 
 There nothing is can wound me on my way ; 
 Filhng my prison with a light divine. 
 
 My queen, you come as does a saintly moon, 
 And I forget the dark clouds while you shine. 
 
 And take no heed of that which will be soon. 
 Was ever fate like mine ? so dark and sweet ? 
 God's feast before me, and I may not eat — 
 
 God's feast, for I have won your heart at last, 
 And may not tarry for a lover's kiss ; 
 
 But rich reward for future pain and jjast 
 Is this one hour — this present hour of bliss. 
 
 What though another night shall find me dead. 
 With no more sense of love and summer morn?
 
 CHASTELARD TO MARY STUART. 105 
 
 I lived to put a crown upon my head 
 
 That shall be with me in the time uubom ; 
 Nor may I be deceived with dying breath — 
 Speech is prophetic on the day of death. 
 
 Trust me, my perfect love, this midnight walk 
 
 Is but a fretful prologue to the play — 
 Anxietude and doubt and troubled talk, 
 
 Then writing shows the scene for Heaven-Day. 
 How tell you all in such a breathless time ? 
 
 When Death is standing with his door ajar, 
 Counting the minutes in a dreamful rhyme, 
 
 Till he may take his whetted scythe, and mar 
 The glorious garden where my pleasures grew 
 To music and new hope because of you. 
 
 It is a fearful fall to truest knights — 
 
 This headlong tiimble to a mystic goal. 
 This slipping from God's sky and all its hghts, 
 
 To dirt and darkness in a narrow hole ; 
 But unto me an angel came to show 
 
 That we imagine all the bitter part — 
 One crack of thunder and one seething glow 
 
 Of Hghtning, and a little timid start,
 
 106 CHASTELARD TO MARY STUART. 
 
 And there an end ; the storm "becomes a charm, 
 With j)romise of new life without alarm. 
 
 I do remember in Love's land of France, 
 
 Whither best thoughts do truant-like run back, 
 Our life was zoned with light and fair romance. 
 
 And dance and glamour followed in the track : 
 Nay, these are not poor flow'rs I pluck so late ; 
 
 They have the scent of early love, and tho' 
 Some poison buds come too, they are of Fate, 
 
 And honey were not sweet if 'twere not so ; 
 All is for love, and deadly nightshade grows 
 As much by Heaven's will as does the rose. 
 
 When that the gentle Hero held the light, 
 
 Leander, knowing then her truth to him. 
 Sank under sea in his extreme delight, 
 
 And in Life's river could no longer swim : 
 Now that you hold this loving light to me, 
 
 Death's river, where the clouds hang in the night, 
 Shall be as glorious as Leander's sea, 
 
 And the mysterious ferry shall be bright ; 
 Your tears are bitter-sweet, e'en I could weep 
 For joy of this * Good night, and pleasant sleep.'
 
 CEASTELABD TO MARY STUART. 107 
 
 Stay your tears, my sweet, and no more speech 
 
 Shall come from me of Death; if my heart's kiss 
 Can cure your aphony, I do beseech 
 
 Your lips a little, that I may not miss 
 The melody locked up with your dear voice. 
 
 This pure and precious time can no pain give, 
 But only gentle faith, and I rejoice 
 
 In knowledge of love strong enough to hve : 
 Your hand is heaven, my love ; I feel your kiss ; 
 Your eyes speak peace, and now the rest is bliss.
 
 108 
 
 WRITTEN IN BLOOD. 
 
 The morning sun is shining on dry leaves 
 
 That line the winter woods with faded fires ; 
 And the chill wind that for the summer grieves, 
 
 Plays sad despairing tunes on frosted lyres. 
 Lord Langton he has won his love, and knows 
 
 The tremhling joy that covers years of pain ; 
 And he is waiting till the darkness grows, 
 
 And wishing it may come with wind and rain, 
 That they may steal away, and in black night 
 Pind safety that will lead them to the light. 
 
 And still he walks in that dead forest hall, 
 
 Where the nipped leaves have fallen from the roof 
 
 To lie ahout the cup-moss on the wall ; 
 And there he tries to keep all fear aloof : 
 
 " Sir Stephen will be with her for a while. 
 
 And she will give him his full share of soitow :
 
 WRITTEN IN BLOOD. 109 
 
 Then in few minutes will my fortune smile, 
 And we shall be away upon the morrow ; 
 I take a charm to make my burdens light — 
 A lady for whom all brave lords would fight." 
 
 The trees are still between two misty moons — 
 
 One up in heaven and one in the stream, 
 And hung on dark dead boughs are snow festoons, 
 
 And fairy chains with tiny stars agleam. 
 Lord Langton listens with his greedy ears ; 
 
 He starts at night birds and the baying hounds. 
 And his sweet ague of fair hopes and fears 
 
 Suggests strange meanings to mysterious sounds. 
 'Tis time ! he moves along the silent floor, 
 And — there is runninor blood beneath her door !
 
 no 
 
 ALDERLIEFEST. 
 
 Long had I wandered in Circean lands, 
 
 Wliere dreams of love are only dreams tliat pass, 
 And known the callid kindness of white hands, 
 
 And lips like lihes set in adder's-grass : 
 True love came not, Marie ; I turned aside. 
 
 And stayed, and felt a cursed one as I stood, 
 Till you were with me as a gracious guide. 
 
 And then I knew the world — that it is good. 
 
 Love's garden had erewhile begun to parch 
 
 In thunder heat, and no sweet rain to sing ; 
 And I was fainting in my weary march, — 
 
 The day to me was but a deadly thing, 
 And night a terror : and the sun heat grew ; 
 
 It choked green things with dust, and cracked the land ; 
 And no rain fell on earth and no wind blew ; 
 
 Then, sinking, I was saved by your dear hand.
 
 ALBERLIEFEST. HI 
 
 And tlien the coolness came, and drought was done, 
 
 And blessed showers of rain fell through the night, 
 With quiet hopeful music, till the sun 
 
 Showed all my blossoms shining red and white : 
 You were my rainbow-love, the promise given, 
 
 On that blue silent morning after rain, 
 That my new heart should not be sorely riven, 
 
 Nor my new garden bent with blight again.
 
 112 
 
 WILDERMERE. 
 
 Sir Ivan sat beside his love 
 
 Under a beechen tree ; 
 The wood was all aglow with bloom, 
 
 And all aglow was he, 
 For that young maid to him had said 
 
 That she his wife would be. 
 
 There came a bearded woman by — 
 
 A woman foul to see ; 
 The dog she had was gaunt and grim, 
 
 And gaunt and grim was she ; 
 She shook her staff and laughed the laugh 
 
 Of fiendish villainy. 
 
 "I know thee," said that grisly dame, 
 " And I will spoil your cheer ; 
 
 I came unto your door for food 
 In winter-time last year ;
 
 WILDEBMERE. 113 
 
 You drove me thence, sans food or pence, 
 Sir Ivan Wildermere." 
 
 " I knew thee for a witch," he said. 
 
 '* Thou did'st not come to me 
 As women come who starve for food, 
 
 And cold and hungry be — 
 Thou did'st not shrink for meat or drink, 
 
 Thou hateful prodigy." 
 
 The beldam stared with ghostly eye. 
 
 And came to where they sat ; 
 The dog growled and his mistress growled. 
 
 And at the lovers spat : 
 " Sir Wildermere see what is here, 
 
 Thy trothplight is a cat." 
 
 Sir Wildermere looked with a blench 
 
 On her he should affy, 
 And lo ! she was a four-legged thing. 
 
 And set her back up high : 
 She wagged a long tail, and the hag 
 
 Laughed at him devilishly.
 
 114 WILBEBMEBE. 
 
 Then spake slie unto Wildermere, 
 " This dog I have with me 
 
 Was once a knight, and thou mayhap 
 Some day a dog wilt be : 
 
 Come cat and dog, now we must jog, 
 Grood morrow, helamy." 
 
 Sir Ivan sank down alamort, 
 
 A sad astonied knight, 
 For his beloved Marian 
 
 He had no power to fight ; 
 As good essay to dim the day. 
 
 Or make the darkness bright. 
 
 Night lit her lamps, and pale desj)air 
 
 Laid Ivan in a swoon ; 
 He dreamt of love that was alate 
 
 Under the white-faced moon — 
 The roses wept, and Ivan slept 
 
 The sleep that is a boon. 
 
 The sun shone slanting in the morn 
 Through matted folds of may,
 
 WILBEBMERE 115 
 
 The eglantine dropped spangle-beads 
 
 Before him as lie lay ; 
 And on the knight played amber light, 
 
 He woke, and it was day ! 
 
 He looked around him with a smile, 
 
 And left his leafy lair, 
 " Now is my heart as full of joy 
 
 As it was full of care, 
 For now I know which way to go, 
 
 And fate again is fair, 
 
 " Though devils bring the spite of hell 
 
 To blight a mortal's weal, 
 For every sore there is a salve 
 
 So long as hearts are leal, 
 And sleep hath sent medicament 
 
 My poison- wound to heal." 
 
 He went away by stream and lake 
 That lay as smooth as glass, 
 
 By blossom bough and tangle-wood 
 That sighed, as he did pass ;
 
 116 WILDEBMEBE. 
 
 And in between was gold and green 
 Of buttercups and grass. 
 
 Still on be went until be came 
 
 Unto a dreary dell 
 Tbat made a stencb, and all around 
 
 Was dim and dank as bell ; 
 And in tbat spot tbere stood a cot, 
 
 And tbere tbe witcb did dwell. 
 
 He strode up to tbat danger cot, 
 
 Of scorn and anger full, 
 And saw about tbe bouse leg bones 
 
 And on eacb bone a skull. 
 And wbite and lone 'mong bleacbing bone 
 
 Blew roses beautiful. 
 
 Tbe wily witcb grinned at tbe door, 
 
 And j)icked a buman bone ; 
 " I come to kill tbine evil craft, 
 
 And make tbee to atone ; 
 I fear no barm, I bear a cbarm 
 
 More potent tban tbine own."
 
 WILBERMEBE. 1 1 7 
 
 And therewithal his shining blade 
 From out the sheath he drew ; 
 
 The witch stood up, and in a trice 
 Her iron nose she blew 
 
 In trumpet sound, and from the ground 
 Two giant things upgrew. 
 
 " I do not fear ye," said the knight, 
 " Nor Doubt, nor yet Despair ;" 
 
 A bogglish light was in their eyes 
 That looked in devil stare — 
 
 He fought the two and both he slew, 
 The dame died with a blare. 
 
 He took his love from under ban, 
 
 After the deathly fight ; 
 Then tapped he upon every skull, 
 
 And each became a knight ; 
 And by his side each hath his bride 
 
 From scented roses white. 
 
 And joy was unto every knight. 
 For dead were Doubt and Fear ;
 
 118 WILDEBMEBE. 
 
 And joy was unto ev'ry maid 
 For many a meiTy year — 
 
 And more than all the joy did fall 
 To Ivan Wildermere. 
 
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 HAYDN'S DICTIONARY OF POPULAR MEDICINE. 
 
 THE LATE THOMAS HOOD'S WORKS. 
 
 Just ready, the New and Only Conipleto Edition, in 10 vols., crown Svo, cloth gilt, 
 
 price 5(is, ; half calf, 70s. ; half morocco, 70s. 
 
 THE COMPLETE WORKS OF THOMAS HOOD, i'l Ten Volumes, 
 
 containing nil the Writings of this Popular Author (■• Hood's Own." First and 
 Second Series, Hood's Comic and Serious Poems included), with all the 
 Original Illustrations by Cruikshank, Leech, &c. 
 *,* This Edition contains also the Memorials of Thomas Hood, Edited by his Son and Daughter. 
 
 THE HOOD DOEE. 
 
 THOMAS HOOD. Illustrated by Gustavo Dord With Nine Engravings on 
 Steel, from Original Drawings by Gustave Dord, and many Woodcut Illustra- 
 tions, folio, cloth eilt, gill edges, 21s. 
 
 THOMAS HOOD. Illustrated by Birket Foster. First Series. With Engrav- 
 ings, 21s. 
 
 THOMAS HOOD. Again Illustrated by Birket Foster. Containing 22 Draw- 
 ings by Birket Foster, engraved ou Steel by William Miller, of Edinburgh. 
 Large 4to, cloth gilt, gilt edges, 21s. 
 
 HOOD'S OWN ; or. Laughter from Year to Year. First and Second Series in 
 one vol., complete with all the original Illustrations by Cruikshank, Leech, &c. 
 In entirely New and Handsome Binding. Now ready, new Edition. Royal Svo 
 cloth gilt."lOK. Cd. 
 
 HOOD'S OWN ; or. Laughter from Year to Year. First Serie.';. A New Edition. 
 In one vol., Svo, illustrated by .350 Woodcuts, cloth, 7s. 6d., gilt edges, 8s. Gd. 
 
 HOOD'S ©"WN. Second Series. In one vol., Svo, illustrated by numerous 
 Woodcuts, cloth, 7s. Gd.. gilt edges, 8s Gd. 
 
 HOOD'S COMIC POEMS. Cloth, 5s. 
 
 HOOD'S SERIOUS POEMS. Cloth, 5s. 
 
 A New and Complete Edition. 
 
 Dedicated by express permission to the Queen, also con'-ains an unpub'lshed poem addressed 
 
 by Wordsworth to Her Majesty. 
 
 WORDSWORTH'S PROSE WORKS. The Prose Works of William 
 Wordsworth, complete copyright edition, now for the lirst time collected. 
 Edited by the Rev. A. B. Grosart, Author of Fuller Worthie's Library. 3 vols., 
 demy Svo, cloth gilt, 42s. 
 
 TENNYSON-DORE SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED BOOKS. 
 
 With Engravin'irs on Steel from Drawings by Gustave Don^. In clofugilt, gilt edges. 
 
 The Idylls of the King. 37 En- 
 gravings. In one magnitlcent folio 
 volume, 73s. 6d. 
 
 Elaine. Nine Engravings. Folio, 21s. 
 
 Enid. Nino Engr.avings. Folio, 21s. 
 Vivien. Nine Engravings. Folio, 21s. 
 Guinevere. Nine Engravings. Folio, 
 21s. 
 
 London : E. MOXON, SON & CO., 1, Amen Comer, Patemost r How, E.C.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CAYLORD 
 
 
 
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