Part 2
Then I turned to Love, and said,-- Love was glowing heavenly-red,--
Give me of your cup to drink, Love, and tell me all you think.
Let me taste your bitter-sweet; Who are those that kiss your feet?
Love looked up--I read her eyes-- They were stars and they were skies.
Clinging to her garment’s hem, Smiling as I looked at them,
There were children scarred and halt, Children weeping for a fault; Those who scarcely dared to raise Doubtful eyes to smiling Praise.
Love looked round, and Praise and Pride Brought their glad ones to her side.
“Yea, these too,” she said or sang, And the world with music rang.
TWO PICTURES
I
There was a little fellow Who lived across the sea, His hair was brown and yellow As any honey-bee. Sometimes he was the smartest Of warriors in the van; He was a Bonapartist, And a Republican.
A fort of cards he builded, Though now and then they slid; With ammunition filled it, Or made believe he did; And when the fort was wrought up, This little man amain His big artillery brought up, And blew it down again!
II
This little Bonapartist, Or, say, Republican, Would sometimes play the artist,-- The busy little man! Sometimes he was untidy, Though often he was smart; He thought that he was mighty In many kinds of Art. He sat like any fixture, The drawing-board before; And, oh, to see the mixture Of colours on the floor! Such was this little fellow, Who lived across the sea, Whose hair was brown and yellow, Just like a honey-bee.
III
Seven-and-seventy mothers, This side of the sea, Said, “We know some others Quite as nice as he!” Seven-and-seventy brothers Said, “And so do we!” Seven-and-seventy sisters, Hearing this acclaim, Said to those young misters, “We think just the same.”
THE SHIP THAT SAILED INTO THE SUN
They said my brother’s ship went down, Down into the sea, Because a storm came on to drown The biggest ships that be; But I saw the ship, when he went away; I saw it pass, and pass; The tide was low, I went out to play, The sea was all like glass; The ship sailed straight into the sun, Half of a ball of gold-- Onward it went till it touched the sun-- I saw the ship take hold!
But soon I saw them both no more, The sun and the ship together, For the wind began to hoot and to roar, And there was stormy weather. Yet every day the golden ball Rests on the edge of the sky; The sun it is, with the ship and all, For the ship sailed into the golden ball Across the edge of the sky.
THE YOUNG EXILE
Little Boy From Savoy, With the slouch-sandalled feet, With the pipe in your hand, To play on, as you stand In the long, stony, stupid, stumbling street; I heard a noise just now, And I got up from my desk, Saying, “What can be the row?” For the dogs went bow-wow, And I-cannot-tell-you-how Went your music; and the whole thing was grotesque. Then I saw you, picturesque, In the weather, With a feather In your rough wide-awake, And a bowl, Poor young soul! In your hand for the coppers you might take; And the handsome face you had, Little lad, Olive skin of the South, Large eyes and well-set mouth, I admired very much, yes, I did; And I wished you back again To your dear native plain On the loose with a marmot or a kid; With your father, and a bag full of money, In a cottage all your own Pretty much got up of stone, And with flocks In the rocks At your call, and the maids, Blue-kirtled, in the shades, And a score of beehives very full of honey!
THE COMING STORM
The tree-tops rustle, the tree-tops wave, They hustle, they bustle; and, down in a cave, The winds are murmuring, ready to rave.
The skies are dimming; the birds fly low, Skimming and swimming, their wings are slow; They float, they are carried, they scarcely go.
The dead leaves hurry; the waters, too, Flurry and scurry; as if they knew A storm was at hand; the smoke is blue.
THE DISCONTENTED YEW-TREE
A Dark-green prickly yew one night Peeped round on the trees of the forest, And said, “_Their_ leaves are smooth and bright, My lot is the worst and poorest:
I wish I had golden leaves,” said the yew; And lo, when the morning came, He found his wish had come suddenly true, For his branches were all aflame.
Now, by came a Jew, with a bag on his back, Who cried, “I’ll be rich to-day!” He stripped the boughs, and, filling his sack With the yellow leaves, walked away!
The yew was as vexed as a tree could be, And grieved as a yew-tree grieves, And sighed, “If Heaven would but pity me, And grant me crystal leaves!”
Then crystal leaves crept over the boughs; Said the yew, “Now am I not gay?” But a hailstorm hurricane soon arose And broke every leaf away!
So he mended his wish yet once again,-- “Of my pride I do now repent; Give me fresh green leaves, quite smooth and plain, And I will be content.”
In the morning he woke in smooth green leaf, Saying, “This is a sensible plan; The storm will not bring my beauty to grief, Or the greediness of man.”
But the world has goats as well as men, And one came snuffing past, Which ate of the green leaves a million and ten, Not having broken his fast.
O then the yew-tree groaned aloud, “What folly was mine, alack! I was discontented, and I was proud-- O give me my old leaves back!”
So, when daylight broke, he was dark, dark green, And prickly as before!-- The other trees mocked, “Such a sight to be seen! To be near him makes one sore!” The south wind whispered his leaves between, “Be thankful, and change no more!
“The thing you are is always the thing That you had better be”-- But the north wind said, with a gallant fling, “The foolish, weak yew-tree!
“What if he blundered twice or thrice? There’s a turn to the longest lane; And everything must have its price-- Poor faulterer, try again!”
THE LITTLE BROTHER
Little brother in a cot, Baby, baby! Shall he have a pleasant lot? Maybe, maybe!
Little brother in a nap, Baby, baby! Bless his tiny little cap, Noise far away be!
With a rattle in his hand, Baby, baby! Dreaming--who can understand Dreams like this, what they be?
When he wakes kiss him twice, Then talk and gay be; Little cheeks soft and nice, Baby, baby!
Pretty little pouting boy, Baby, baby! Let his life, with sweet and toy, Pleasure all and play be.
Seven white angels watching here, Baby, baby! Pray be kind to baby dear, Pray be, pray be!
Little brother in a cot, Baby, baby! His shall be a pleasant lot-- _Must_, not may be!
CUCKOO IN THE PEAR-TREE
The Cuckoo sat in the old pear-tree. Cuckoo! Raining or snowing, nought cared he. Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo, nought cared he.
The Cuckoo flew over a housetop nigh. Cuckoo! “Dear, are you at home, for here am I? Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo, here am I.”
“I dare not open the door to you. Cuckoo! Perhaps you are not the right cuckoo? Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo, the right Cuckoo!”
“I am the right Cuckoo, the proper one. Cuckoo! For I am my father’s only son, Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo, his only son.”
“If you are your father’s only son-- Cuckoo! The bobbin pull tightly, Come through the door lightly-- Cuckoo!
If you are your father’s only son-- Cuckoo! It must be you, the only one-- Cuckoo, cuckoo, my own Cuckoo! Cuckoo!”
MADCAP
Swift, lithe, plastical; High-fantastical In feats gymnastical; Enthusiastical;
She is a glorious Romp; victorious; Is uproarious Too censorious?
She is a mighty, Elfy, spritey, Highty-tighty Ma’mselle Flighty.
The gayest wench, if Her mood’s extensive; But full of sense, if Her mood is pensive.
What resolution In execution! “O mum,” says Susan, “She is a Rooshian!”
But when she’s graver No girl is braver In her behaviour, As I’m a shaver!
Bid Mystery pack again! With sudden tack again, My Romp is back again, Madcap, clack again!
When I am priming Myself for rhyming Of Jove or Hymen, That girl is climbing,
Athletic, able, The chairs, the table, An admirable Gymnastic Babel!
It makes me shiver In lungs and liver, To look! However, Three cheers I give her.
THE BEWITCHED TOYS; OR, QUEEN MAB IN CHILD-WORLD.
I
Here comes Queen Mab in her coach-and-six! Look out for mischievous fairy tricks! Look out, good girls! Look out, brave boys! I know she comes to bewitch your toys! Hither she floats, like the down of a thistle!-- So mind the pegtop; and mind the hoop; Bring down the kite with a sudden swoop; Hide the popgun; and plug up the whistle; But don’t say Dolly’s a-bed with the croup: For, if you tell her a fib, my dear, She’ll fasten the door-key to your ear!
II
Then the Kite went flying up to the Moon, And the Man with the Sticks, who lives up there, Kick’d it through with his clouted shoon, And the tail hung dangling down in the air.
But Harry wouldn’t let go the string, Although it nearly broke with the strain; Said he: “Well, this is a comical thing, But the kite is mine, and I’ll have it again!”
“Now whistle three times,” cried cunning Nell, “And over your shoulder throw your shoe, And pull once more, and say this spell: FUSTUMFUNNIDOSTANTARABOO!”
But Harry made a mistake in the charm, Saying, “FUSTUMFUNNIDOSTANTABOORACK!” And a dreadful pain went all up his arm, And he fell down, shouting, right on his back.
Then Nell took hold, and pulled the string, And the kite came down, all safe and sound, And a piece of the moon away did bring, Which you may have for a silver pound!
III
Said Thomas, with the round straw hat, “My popgun bring to me, And hey! to shoot the Tabby Cat Up in the Cherry-tree!
“Last night she stole my supper all,-- She must be better taught; And I shall make her caterwaul ‘I’m sorry,’ as she ought.”
Then Thomas, taking hasty aim At Tabby on the bough, Hit Tabby’s mistress, an old Dame Who had a Brindled Cow.
The Brindled Cow could not abide To see her mistress struck. And after trembling Thomas hied,-- Said he, “It’s just my luck!”
She tossed him once, she tossed him twice, When Tabby at her flew, Saying, “Tom, your custard was so nice That I will fight for you.”
The old Dame flung the pellet back, And, when Tom picked it up, He cried, “The pellet has turned, good lack! To a custard in a cup!”
And so it had! The Brindled Cow, The Dame, and Tabby Cat Were much surprised. “It’s strange, I vow,” Said Tom in the round hat.
But nothing came amiss to him; He ate the custard clean-- There was a brown mark round the rim To show where it had been.
IV
“Pegtop, pegtop--fast asleep! Pray, how long do you mean to keep Humming and droning and spinning away? Do you mean to keep on all the day? Ten minutes have passed since your nap was begun; Pegtop, when will your nap be done?
“Forty winks, forty, and forty more! You never slept so long before; This is a pretty sleep to take! Boxer, Boxer, yawn and wake!”
Then said Marian, “Never fear; Dolly’s nightcap, Richard dear, Put on Boxer--perhaps he thinks He would like forty times forty winks!”
Three o’clock, four o’clock, all day long Richard’s pegtop hummed so strong, Hummed away and would not stop-- Dick had to buy another top! For though this Boxer was certainly clever, Who wants a pegtop to hum for ever?
All the Queen’s horses and all the Queen’s men Couldn’t get Boxer to wake again; They made him a house, and put him in; The people came to see Boxer spin; “A penny apiece,” said Dick, “and cheap, To see my Pegtop’s wonderful sleep!”
V
Kate had quarrelled and would not speak To Cousin John, Who, trying to kiss her on the cheek, With her bonnet on, Had crumpled her bonnet at the border, And put the trimming in disorder.
“Pray let me kiss you, Katy dear,” Said John so gay. “Now. Master John,” said Kate severe, “Please get away! And if you don’t, I only hope You’ll get hit with my skipping-rope!”
Skip, skip, Never trip; Round and round! “Does it touch the ground? Don’t I skip well?” said sulky Kate; But, oh, at last Her feet stuck fast-- Her pretty feet, So small and neat, Were glued by magic to the skipping-cord, Which turned into a Swing! And then my lord Johnny said, “This is fine, upon my word!”
Backwards and forwards Katy swung;-- To the magic rope, which by nothing hung, Frightened out of her breath she clung-- An apple for the Queen, and a pear for the King! Wasn’t that a wonderful swing? It kept on going like anything!
“John!” said Katy, turning faint, And the colour of white paint, “Save me from this dreadful swing!” Then our Johnny made a spring Up to Kate, and held her tight, And kissed her twice, with all his might, Which stopped the magic swing; and Katy then Said, “Thank you, Jack!” and kissed him back again.
VI
Then the Children all said, “She spoils our play: We must really get Queen Mab away; She mustn’t bewitch our Toys too much. Who will speak to her? Does she talk Dutch? John knows Magic, and Greek, and such; No one than John can be cleverer-- Perhaps he knows how to get rid of her!”
VII
Six White Mice, with harness on, What do you think of Cousin John, Who taught them so, And made them go?-- Six white mice, with harness on!
A wee coach, gilt like the Lord Mayor’s own! Made by Cousin John alone, Bright and gay,-- On a Lord Mayor’s Day Just such a coach is the Lord Mayor’s own!
Marian’s Doll come out for a ride, Dressed like a queen in pomp and pride: The six wee mice, That trot so nice, Draw Marian’s Doll come out for a ride!
Every mouse had a silver bell Round its neck, as I’ve heard tell; Tinkle tink!-- But who would think Of a harnessed mouse, with a silver bell?
“What can six white mice intend?” Thought Queen Mab, with her hair on end-- “And silver bells, And what-not-else-- What can six white mice intend?
“When was such a procession seen? It frightens me, as I’m a Queen!” So she stopped her tricks, And her coach-and-six Drove away with the Fairy Queen.
THE NEW WORLD
I saw a new world in my dream, Where all the folks alike did seem; There was no Child, there was no Mother, There was no Change, there was no Other,
For everything was Same, the Same; There was no praise, there was no blame; There was neither Need nor Help for it; There was nothing fitting, or unfit.
Nobody laughed, nobody wept; None grew weary, and so none slept; There was nobody born, and nobody wed; This world was a world of the living-dead.
I longed to hear the Time-Clock strike In the world where the people were all alike; I hated Same, I hated For-Ever, I longed to say Neither, or even Never.
I longed to mend, I longed to make, I longed to give, I longed to take, I longed for a change, whatever came after, I longed for crying, I longed for laughter.
At last I heard the Time-Clock boom, And woke from my dream in my little room; With a smile on her lips my mother was nigh, And I heard the Baby crow and cry.
And I thought to myself,--How nice it is For me to live in a world like this, Where things can happen, and clocks can strike, And none of the people are made alike;
Where Love wants this, and Pain wants that, And all our hearts want Tit for Tat In the jumbles we make with our heads and our hands, In a world that nobody understands, But with work, and hope, and the right to call Upon Him who sees it and knows us all.
LINA AND HER LAMB
I
This is Lina, with her lamb, Lina and her lamb together, In the pleasant, flowery weather. “What a happy lamb I am!”-- That is what the lamb would say If the lamb could only speak-- “Lina loves me all the week; Lina loves me night and day; Lina loves me all the hours; Lina goes to gather flowers; Lina knows them, Lina finds them; Lina takes the flowers, and binds them In a necklace for her lamb!”-- Happy Lina, happy lamb! Lina and her lamb together, In the pleasant flowery weather.
II
This is Lina with her lamb, Lina and her lamb together, In the snowy winter weather; “What a happy lamb I am!” That is what the lamb would say If the lamb could only speak-- “Lina loves me, Lina heeds me, Lina carries me, and feeds me!” Happy Lina, happy lamb! Lina and her lamb together, In the freezing winter weather.
THE BOY THAT LOVES A BABY
Good morrow, Little Stranger, Good morrow, Baby dear! Good morrow, too, Mrs. Grainger, And what do you do here? With your boxes, caps, and cap-strings, Drowsy, hazard-hap things, And love of good cheer?
I’m a little boy that goes, ma’am, Straight to the point; You said that my nose, ma’am, Would soon be out of joint; But my nose keeps its place, ma’am-- The middle of my face, ma’am; It is a nose of grace, ma’am-- Aroint thee, aroint!
Good morrow, Little Stranger, A girl, or a boy? Good morrow, Mrs. Grainger-- Where are you, ma’am?--ahoy! Here’s all things in their proper place, And people likewise, The laundry-maid in the copper-place, The skylark in the skies! Here’s love for Mamma, And love for Papa; Here’s a penny for a scavenger, And a bag for the blooming lavender, And a rope for Don’t Care, And a kiss for the little Baby, And one for a pretty lady With a diamond in her hair!
I
The Giant sat on a rock up high, With the wind in his shaggy hair; And he said, “I have drained the dairies dry, And stripped the orchards bare;
“I have eaten the sheep, with the wool on their backs,” (A nasty giant was he,) “The eggs and the shells, the honey, the wax, The fowls, and the cock-turkéy;
“And now I think I could eat a score Of babies so plump and small; And if, after that, I should want any more, Their brothers and sisters and all.
“To-morrow I’ll do it. Ha! what was that?” Said he, for a sound he heard; “Was it fluttering owl or pattering rat, Or bough to the breeze that stirred?”
Oh, it was neither rat nor owl, Giant! nor shaking leaf; Young Harold has heard your scheme so foul, And it may come to grief!
One thing which you ate has escaped your mind,-- Young Harold his guinea-pig dear; And he has crept up to try and find His pet, and he shakes with fear;
He has hid himself in a corner, you know, To listen and look about; And if to the village to-morrow you go, You may find the babes gone out!
II
Now, when to the village came Harold back And told his tale so wild, Then every mother she cried, “Good lack! My child! preserve my child!”
And every father took his sword And sharpened it on a stone; But little Harold said never a word, Having a plan of his own.
He laid six harrows outside the stile That led to the village green, Then on them a little hay did pile, For the prongs not to be seen.
A toothsome sucking-pig he slew, And thereby did it lay; For why? Because young Harold knew The Giant would pass that way.
Then he went in and said his prayers,-- Not to lie down to sleep; But at his window up the stairs A watch all night did keep,
Till the little stars all went pale to bed, Because the sun was out, And the sky in the east grew dapple-red, And the little birds chirped about.
III
Now, all the village was early awake, And, with short space to pray, Their preparations they did make, To bear the babes away.
The horses were being buckled in,-- The little ones looked for a ride,-- When on came the Giant, as ugly as Sin, With a terrible six-yard stride.
Then every woman and every child To scream aloud began; Young Harold up at his watch-tower smiled, And his sword drew every man;
For now the Giant, fierce and big, Came near to the stile by the green, But when he saw that luscious pig His lips grew wet between!
Now, left foot, right foot, step it again, He trod on----the harrow spikes! And how he raged and roared with pain He may describe who likes.
At last he fell, and as he lay Loud bellowing on the ground, The stalwart men of the village, they With drawn swords danced around.
“O spare my life, I you entreat! I will be a Giant good! O take out those thorns that prick my feet, Which now are bathed in blood!”
Then the little village maids did feel For this Giant so shaggy-haired, And to their parents they did kneel, Saying, “Let his life be spared!”
His bleeding wounds the maids did bind; They framed a litter strong With all the hurdles they could find; Six horses drew him along;
And all the way to his castle rude Up high in the piny rocks, He promised to be a Giant good-- The cruel, crafty fox!
IV
“O mother, lend me your largest tub!”-- “Why, daughter? tell me quick!”-- “O mother, to make a syllabub For the Giant who is so sick.”
Now in fever-fit the Giant lay, From the pain in his wounded feet, And hoping soon would come the day When he might the babies eat.
“O mother, dress me in white, I beg, With flowers and pretty gear; For Mary and Madge, and Jess and Peg, And all my playmates dear,
“We go to the Giant’s this afternoon, To carry him something nice,-- A custard three times as big as the moon, With sugar and wine and spice.”
“O daughter, your father shall go with you; Suppose the Giant is well, And eats you up, what shall we do?” Then her thought did Alice tell:--