The sentinel-cock upon the hillside crew, Crew thrice, and all was stiller than before, 279 And where the oriole hung her swaying nest, By every light wind like a censer swung: Silent till some replying warder blew more. Where erst the jay, within the elm's tall Where sang the noisy masons of the eaves, Where every bird which charmed the vernal feast, Shook the sweet slumber from its wings To warn the reaper of the rosy east, - Alone from out the stubble piped the quail, And croaked the crow through all the dreamy gloom; Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale, On slumb'rous wings the vulture held his flight; The dove scarce heard its sighing mate's complaint; And like a star slow drowning in the light, Amid all this, the centre of the scene, The village church-vane seemed to pale The white-haired matron with monotonous tread, and faint. Plied the swift wheel, and with her joyless mien, Sat, like a Fate, and watched the flying thread. There was no bud, no bloom, upon the bowers; The spiders wove their thin shrouds night by night; The thistle-down, the only ghost of flow ers, Sailed slowly by, passed noiseless out of sight. Amid all this, in this most cheerless air, And where the woodbine shed upon the porch Its crimson leaves, as if the Year stood there Firing the floor with his inverted torch; I sat and spun within the doore, eyes; The message that the bells let fall: And there was naught of strange, beside The flights of mews and peewits pied By millions crouched on the old sea wall. The level sun, like ruddy ore, Lay sinking in the barren skies; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wandereth, My sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, From the meads where melick groweth 86 "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, 'For the dews will soon be falling; Leave your meadow grasses mellow, Mellow, mellow; JEAN INGELOW. THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF Againe I hear the Lindis flow, LINCOLNSHIRE. Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Quit the stalks of parsley hollow, Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, Jetty, to the milking-shed.” If it be long, aye, long ago, When I beginne to think howe long, Swift as an arrowe, sharp and strong; And all the aire it seemeth me Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), That ring the tune of Enderby. Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups! That loved her brown little ones, loved them full fain; Sing, "Heart, thou art wide though the Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups! L A ship sails afar over warm ocean waters, And haply one musing doth stand at her prow. Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups! O bonny brown sons, and O sweet little daughters, Maybe he thinks on you now. And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall! Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure, God that is over us all! SEVEN TIMES SEVEN. LONGING FOR HOME. MATERNITY. HEIGH-HO! daisies and buttercups! And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small! Here's two bonny boys, and here's I pray you hear my song of a boat, mother's own lasses, For it is but short: Eager to gather them all. I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat I marked her course till, a dancing mote, And my dreams upon the pillow. My boat you shall find none fairer afloat, Long I looked out for the lad she bore, And I think he sailed to the heavenly For he came not back to me Ah me! A song of a nest :— There was once a nest in a hollow; Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed, Soft and warm and full to the brim. I pray you hear my song of a nest, You shall never light in a summer quest |
Conseguir este libro impreso
0 Reseñas Las reseñas no se verifican, pero Google comprueba si hay contenido falso y lo retira una vez identificado Escribir reseña |