Chapter 1

Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.

PEACOCK PIE

A Book of Rhymes

by

Walter de la Mare

'He told me his dreams. . .' Isaac Watts

Table of Contents

UP AND DOWN The Horseman Up and Down Mrs. Earth Alas, Alack Tired Tim Mima The Huntsmen The Bandog I Can't Abear The Dunce Chicken Some One Bread and Cherries Old Shellover Hapless The Little Bird Cake and Sack The Ship of Rio Tillie Jim Jay Miss T. The Cupboard The Barber's Hide and Seek

BOYS AND GIRLS Then The Window Poor Henry Full Moon The Bookworm The Quartette Mistletoe The Lost Shoe The Truants

THREE QUEER TALES Berries Off the Ground The Thief at Robin's Castle

PLACES AND PEOPLE A Widow's Weeds 'Sooeep!' Mrs. MacQueen The Little Green Orchard Poor Miss 7 Sam Andy Battle The Old Soldier The Picture The Little Old Cupid King David The Old House

BEASTS Unstooping All But Blind Nicholas Nye The Pigs and The Charcoal Burner Five Eyes Grim Tit for Tat Summer Evening Earth Folk

WITCHES AND FAIRIES At the Keyhole The Old Stone House The Ruin The Ride-by-Nights Peak and Puke The Changeling The Mocking Fairy Bewitched The Honey Robbers Longlegs Melmillo

EARTH AND AIR Trees Silver Nobody Knows Wanderers Many a Mickle Will Ever?

SONGS The Song of the Secret The Song of Soldiers The Bees' Song A Song of Enchantment Dream-Song The Song of Shadows The Song of the Mad prince The Song of Finis

THE HORSEMAN

I heard a horseman Ride over the hill; The moon shone clear, The night was still; His helm was silver, And pale was he; And the horse he rode Was of ivory.

UP AND DOWN

Down the Hill of Ludgate, Up the Hill of Fleet, To and fro and East and West With people flows the street; Even the King of England On Temple Bar must beat For leave to ride to Ludgate Down the Hill of Fleet.

MRS. EARTH

Mrs. Earth makes silver black, Mrs. Earth makes iron red But Mrs. Earth can not stain gold, Nor ruby red. Mrs. earth the slenderest bone Whitens in her bosom cold, But Mrs. Earth can change my dreams No more than ruby or gold. Mrs. Earth and Mr. Sun Can tan my skin, and tire my toes, But all that I'm thinking of, ever shall think, Why, either knows.

ALAS, ALACK!

Ann, Ann! Come! Quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. Out of the fat, As clear as glass, He put up his mouth And moaned 'Alas!' Oh, most mournful, 'Alas, alack!' Then turned to his sizzling, And sank him back.

TIRED TIM

Poor Tired Tim! It's sad for him. He lags the long bright morning through, Ever so tired of nothing to do; He moons and mopes the livelong day, Nothing to think about, nothing to say; Up to bed with his candle to creep, Too tired to yawn, too tired to sleep: Poor Tired Tim! It's sad for him.

MIMA

Jemima is my name, But oh, I have another; My father always calls me Meg, And so do Bob and mother; Only my sister, jealous of The strands of my bright hair, 'Jemima - Mima - Mima!' Calls, mocking, up the stair.

THE HUNTSMEN

Three jolly gentlemen, In coats of red, Rode their horses Up to bed.

Three jolly gentlemen Snored till morn, Their horses champing The golden corn.

Three jolly gentlemen, At break of day, Came clitter-clatter down the stairs And galloped away.

THE BANDOG

Has anybody seen my Mopser? -- A comely dog is he, With hair of the colour of a Charles the Fifth, And teeth like ships at sea, His tail it curls straight upwards, His ears stand two abreast, And he answers to the simple name of Mopser When civilly addressed.

I CAN'T ABEAR

I can't abear a Butcher, I can't abide his meat, The ugliest shop of all is his, The ugliest in the street; Bakers' are warm, cobblers' dark, Chemists' burn watery lights; But oh, the sawdust butcher's shop, That ugliest of sights!

THE DUNCE

Why does he still keep ticking? Why does his round white face Stare at me over the books and ink, And mock at my disgrace? Why does that thrush call, 'Dunce, dunce, dunce!'? Why does that bluebottle buzz? Why does the sun so silent shine? -- And what do I care if it does?

CHICKEN

Clapping her platter stood plump Bess, And all across the green Came scampering in, on wing and claw, Chicken fat and lean: Dorking, Spaniard, Cochin China, Bantams sleek and small, Like feathers blown in a great wind, They came at Bessie's call.

SOME ONE

Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Some one came knocking, I'm sure - sure - sure; I listened, I opened, I looked to left and right, But naught there was a-stirring In the still dark night; Only the busy beetle Tap-tapping in the wall, Only from the forest The screech-owl's call, Only the cricket whistling While the dewdrops fall, So I know not who came knocking, At all, at all, at all.

BREAD AND CHERRIES

'Cherries, ripe cherries!' The old woman cried, In her snowy white apron, And basket beside; And the little boys came, Eyes shining, cheeks red, To buy a bag of cherries, To eat with their bread.

OLD SHELLOVER

'Come!' said Old Shellover. 'What?' says Creep. 'The horny old Gardener's fast asleep; The fat cock Thrush To his nest has gone; And the dew shines bright In the rising Moon; Old Sallie Worm from her hole doth peep: Come!' said Old Shellover. 'Aye!' said Creep.

HAPLESS

Hapless, hapless, I must be All the hours of life I see, Since my foolish nurse did once Bed me on her leggen bones; Since my mother did not weel To snip my nails with blades of steel. Had they laid me on a pillow In a cot of water willow, Had they bitten finger and thumb, Not to such ill hap I had come.

THE LITTLE BIRD

My dear Daddie bought a mansion For to bring my Mammie to, In a hat with a long feather, And a trailing gown of blue; And a company of fiddlers And a rout of maids and men Danced the clock round to the morning, In a gay house-warming then. And when all the guests were gone, and All was still as still can be, In from the dark ivy hopped a Wee small bird: and that was Me.

CAKE AND SACK

Old King Caraway Supped on cake, And a cup of sack His thirst to slake; Bird in arras And hound in hall Watched very softly Or not at all; Fire in the middle, Stone all round Changed not, heeded not, Made no sound; All by himself At the Table High He'd nibble and sip While his dreams slipped by; And when he had finished, He'd nod and say, 'Cake and sack For King Caraway!'

THE SHIP OF RIO

There was a ship of Rio Sailed out into the blue, And nine and ninety monkeys Were all her jovial crew. From bo'sun to the cabin boy, From quarter to caboose, There weren't a stitch of calico To breech 'em - tight or loose; From spar to deck, from deck to keel, From barnacle to shroud, There weren't one pair of reach-me-downs To all that jabbering crowd. But wasn't it a gladsome sight, When roared the deep sea gales, To see them reef her fore and aft A-swinging by their tails! Oh, wasn't it a gladsome sight, When glassy calm did come, To see them squatting tailor-wise Around a keg of rum! Oh, wasn't it a gladsome sight, When in she sailed to land, To see them all a-scampering skip For nuts across the sand!

TILLIE

Old Tillie Turveycombe Sat to sew, Just where a patch of fern did grow; There, as she yawned, And yawn wide did she, Floated some seed Down her gull-e-t; And look you once, And look you twice, Poor old Tillie Was gone in a trice. But oh, when the wind Do a-moaning come, 'Tis poor old Tillie Sick for home; And oh, when a voice In the mist do sigh, Old Tillie Turveycombe's Floating by.

JIM JAY

Do diddle di do, Poor Jim Jay Got stuck fast In Yesterday. Squinting he was, On Cross-legs bent, Never heeding The wind was spent. Round veered the weathercock, The sun drew in - And stuck was Jim Like a rusty pin... We pulled and we pulled From seven till twelve, Jim, too frightened To help himself. But all in vain. The clock struck one, And there was Jim A little bit gone. At half-past five You scarce could see A glimpse of his flapping Handkerchee. And when came noon, And we climbed sky-high, Jim was a speck Slip - slipping by. Come to-morrow, The neighbours say, He'll be past crying for; Poor Jim Jay.

MISS T.

It's a very odd thing ----- As odd as can be --- That whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T.; Porridge and apples, Mince, muffins and mutton, Jam, junket, jumbles ---- Not a rap, not a button It matters; the moment They're out of her plate, Though shared by Miss Butcher And sour Mr. Bate; Tiny and cheerful, And neat as can be, Whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T.

THE CUPBOARD

I know a little cupboard, With a teeny tiny key, And there's a jar of Lollypops For me, me, me.

It has a little shelf, my dear, As dark as dark can be, And there's a dish of Banbury Cakes For me, me, me.

I have a small fat grandmamma, With a very slippery knee, And she's the Keeper of the Cupboard With the key, key, key.

And I'm very good, my dear, As good as good can be, There's Branbury Cakes, and Lollypops For me, me, me.

THE BARBER'S

Gold locks, and black locks, Red locks and brown, Topknot to love-curl The hair wisps down; Straight above the clear eyes, Rounded round the ears, Snip-snap and snick-a-snick, Clash the Barber's shears; Us, in the looking-glass, Footsteps in the street, Over, under, to and fro, The lean blades meet; Bay Rum or Bear's Grease, A silver groat to pay - Then out a-shin-shan-shining In the bright, blue day.

HIDE AND SEEK

Hide and seek, says the Wind, In the shade of the woods; Hide and seek, says the Moon, To the hazel buds; Hide and seek, says the Cloud, Star on to star; Hide and seek, says the Wave, At the harbour bar; Hide and seek, say I, To myself, and step Out of the dream of Wake Into the dream of Sleep.

BOYS AND GIRLS

THEN

Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty A hundred years ago, All through the night with lantern bright The Watch trudged to and fro, And little boys tucked snug abed Would wake from dreams to hear - 'Two o' the morning by the clock, And the stars a-shining clear!' Or, when across the chimney-tops Screamed shrill a North-East gale, A faint and shaken voice would shout, 'Three! And a storm of hail!'

THE WINDOW

Behind the blinds I sit and watch The people passing - passing by; And not a single one can see My tiny watching eye.

They cannot see my little room, All yellowed with the shaded sun; They do not even know I'm here; Nor'll guess when I am gone.

POOR HENRY

Thick in its glass The physic stands, Poor Henry lifts Distracted hands; His round cheek wans In the candlelight, To smell that smell! To see that sight!

Finger and thumb Clinch his small nose, A gurgle, a gasp, And down it goes; Scowls Henry now; But mark that cheek, Sleek with the bloom Of health next week!

FULL MOON

One night as Dick lay half asleep, Into his drowsy eyes A great still light begins to creep From out the silent skies. It was lovely moon's, for when He raised his dreamy head, Her surge of silver filled the pane And streamed across his bed. So, for a while, each gazed at each - Dick and the solemn moon - Till, climbing slowly on her way, She vanished, and was gone.

THE BOOKWORM

'I'm tired - Oh, tired of books,' said Jack, 'I long for meadows green, And woods, where shadowy violets Nod their cool leaves between; I long to see the ploughman stride His darkening acres o'er, To hear the hoarse sea-waters drive Their billows 'gainst the shore; I long to watch the sea-mew wheel Back to her rock-perched mate; Or, where the breathing cows are housed, Lean dreaming o'er the gate. Something has gone, and ink and print Will never bring it back; I long for the green fields again, I'm tired of books,' said Jack.

THE QUARTETTE

Tom sang for joy and Ned sang for joy and old Sam sang for joy; All we four boys piped up loud, just like one boy; And the ladies that sate with the Squire - their cheeks were all wet, For the noise of the voice of us boys, when we sang our Quartette.

Tom he piped low and Ned he piped low and old Sam he piped low; Into a sorrowful fall did our music flow; And the ladies that sate with the Squire vowed they'd never forget How the eyes of them cried for delight, when we sang our Quartette.

MISTLETOE

Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on, Shadows lurking everywhere: Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go Nodding under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), No footsteps came, no voice, but only, Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely, Stooped in the still and shadowy air Lips unseen - and kissed me there.

THE LOST SHOE

Poor little Lucy By some mischance, Lost her shoe As she did dance - 'Twas not on the stairs, Not in the hall; Not where they sat At supper at all. She looked in the garden, But there it was not; Henhouse, or kennel, Or high dovecote. Dairy and meadow, And wild woods through Showed not a trace Of Lucy's shoe. Bird nor bunny Nor glimmering moon Breathed a whisper Of where 'twas gone. It was cried and cried, Oyez and Oyez! In French, Dutch, Latin, And Portuguese. Ships the dark seas Went plunging through, But none brought news Of Lucy's shoe; And still she patters In silk and leather, O'er snow, sand, shingle, In every weather; Spain, and Africa, Hindustan, Java, China, And lamped Japan; Plain and desert, She hops-hops through, Pernambuco To gold Peru; Mountain and forest, And river too, All the world over For her lost shoe.

THE TRUANTS

Ere my heart beats too coldly and faintly To remember sad things, yet be gay, I would sing a brief song of the world's little children Magic hath stolen away.

The primroses scattered by April, The stars of the wide Milky Way, Cannot outnumber the hosts of the children Magic hath stolen away.

The buttercup green of the meadows, The snow of the blossoming may, Lovelier are not than the legions of children Magic hath stolen away.

The waves tossing surf in the moonbeam, The albatross lone on the spray, Alone know the tears wept in vain for the children Magic hath stolen away.

In vain: for at hush of the evening, When the stars twinkle into the grey, Seems to echo the far-away calling of children Magic hath stolen away.

THREE QUEER TALES

BERRIES

There was an old woman Went blackberry picking Along the hedges From Weep to Wicking. - Half a pottle- No more she had got, When out steps a Fairy From her green grot; And says, 'Well, Jill, Would 'ee pick ee mo?' And Jill, she curtseys, And looks just so. Be off,' says the Fairy, 'As quick as you can, Over the meadows To the little green lane That dips to the hayfields Of Farmer Grimes: I've berried those hedges A score of times; Bushel on bushel I'll promise'ee, Jill, This side of supper If'ee pick with a will.' She glints very bright, And speaks her fair; Then lo, and behold! She had faded in air.

Be sure Old Goodie She trots betimes Over the meadows To Farmer Grimes. And never was queen With jewelry rich As those same hedges From twig to ditch; Like Dutchmen's coffers, Fruit, thorn, and flower - They shone like William And Mary's bower. And be sure Old Goodie Went back to Weep, So tired with her basket She scarce could creep.

When she comes in the dusk To her cottage door, There's Towser wagging As never before, To see his Missus So glad to be Come from her fruit-picking Back to he. As soon as next morning Dawn was grey, The pot on the hob Was simmering away; And all in a stew And a hugger-mugger Towser and Jill A-boiling of sugar, And the dark clear fruit That from Faerie came, For syrup and jelly And blackberry jam.

Twelve jolly gallipots Jill put by; And one little teeny one, One inch high; And that she's hidden A good thumb deep, Half way over From Wicking to Weep.

OFF THE GROUND

Three jolly Farmers Once bet a pound Each dance the others would Off the ground. Out of their coats They slipped right soon, And neat and nicesome, Put each his shoon. One - Two - Three! - And away they go, Not too fast, And not too slow; Out from the elm-tree's Noonday shadow, Into the sun And across the meadow. Past the schoolroom, With knees well bent Fingers a-flicking, They dancing went. Up sides and over, And round and round, They crossed click-clacking, The Parish bound, By Tupman's meadow They did their mile, Tee-t-tum On a three-barred stile. Then straight through Whipham, Downhill to Week, Footing it lightsome, But not too quick, Up fields to Watchet, And on through Wye, Till seven fine churches They'd seen skip by - Seven fine churches, And five old mills, Farms in the valley, And sheep on the hills; Old Man's Acre And Dead Man's Pool All left behind, As they danced through Wool. And Wool gone by, Like tops that seem To spin in sleep They danced in dream; Withy - Wellover - Wassop-Wo- Like an old clock Their heels did go. A league and a league And a league they went, And not one weary, And not one spent. And Io, and behold! Past Willow-cum-Leigh Stretched with its waters The great green sea. Says Farmer Bates, I puffs and I blows, What's under the water, Why, no man knows!' Says Farmer Giles, 'My wind comes weak, And a good man drownded Is far to seek.' But Farmer Turvey, On twirling toes Up's with his gaiters, And in he goes: Down where the mermaids Pluck and play On their twangling harps In a sea-green day; Down where the mermaids, Finned and fair, Sleek with their combs Their yellow hair.... Bates and Giles- On the shingle sat, Gazing at Turvey's Floating hat. But never a ripple Nor bubble told Where he was supping Off plates of gold. Never an echo Rilled through the sea Of the feasting and dancing And minstrelsy. They called-called-called: Came no reply: Nought but the ripples' Sandy sigh. Then glum and silent They sat instead, Vacantly brooding On home and bed, Till both together Stood up and said.- 'Us knows not, dreams not, Where you be, Turvey, unless In the deep blue sea; But axcusing silver- And it comes most willing - Here's us two paying Our forty shilling; For it's sartin sure, Turvey, Safe and sound, You danced us square, Turvey, Off the ground!'

THE THIEF AT ROBIN'S CASTLE

There came a Thief one night to Robin's Castle, He climbed up into a Tree; And sitting with his head among the branches, A wondrous Sight did see.

For there was Robin supping at his table, With Candles of pure Wax, His Dame and his two beauteous little Children, With Velvet on their backs.

Platters for each there were shin-shining, Of Silver many a pound, And all of beaten Gold, three brimming Goblets, Standing the table round.

The smell that rose up richly from the Baked Meats Came thinning amid the boughs, And much that greedy Thief who snuffed the night air- His Hunger did arouse.

He watched them eating, drinking, laughing, talking, Busy with finger and spoon, While three most cunning Fiddlers, clad in crimson, Played them a supper-tune.

And he waited in the tree-top like a Starling, Till the Moon was gotten low; When all the windows in the walls were darkened, He softly in did go.

There Robin and his Dame in bed were sleeping, And his Children young and fair; Only Robin's Hounds from their warm kennels Yelped as he climbed the stair.

All, all were sleeping, page and fiddler, Cook, scullion, free from care; Only Robin's Stallions from their stables Neighed as he climbed the stair.

A wee wan light the Moon did shed him, Hanging above the sea, And he counted into his bag (of beaten Silver) Platters thirty-three.

Of Spoons three score; of jolly golden Goblets He stowed in four save one, And six fine three-branched Cupid Candlesticks, Before his work was done.

Nine bulging bags of Money in a cupboard, Two Snuffers, and a Dish He found, the last all studded with great Garnets And shapen like a Fish.

Then tiptoe up he stole into a Chamber, Where on Tasselled Pillows lay Robin and his Daule in dreaming slumbers Tired with the summer's day.

That Thief he mimbled round him in the gloaming, Their treasure for to spy, Combs, Brooches, Chains, and, Rings, and Pins and Buckles All higgledy, Piggle-dy.

A Watch shaped in the shape of a flat Apple In purest crystal set He lifted from the hook where it was ticking And crammed in his Pochette.

He heaped the pretty Baubles on the table, Trinketsi Knick-knackerie, Pearls, Diamonds, Sapphires, Topazes, and Opals- All in his bag put he.

And there in night's pale Gloom was Robin dreaming He was hunting the mountain Bear, While his Dame in peaceful slumber in no wise heeded A greedy Thief was there.

And that ravenous Thief he climbed up even higher, Till into a chamber small He crept where lay poor Robin's beauteous Children, Lovelier in sleep withal.

Oh, fairer was their Hair than Gold of Goblet, 'Yond Silver their Cheeks did shine, And their little hands that lay upon the linen Made that Thief's hard heart to pine.

But though a moment there his hard heart faltered, Eftsoones be took them twain, And slipped them into his Bag with all his Plunder, And soft stole down again.

Spoon, Platter, Goblet, Ducats, Dishes, Trinkets, And those two Children dear, A-quaking in the clinking and the clanking, And half bemused with fear,

He carried down the stairs into the Courtyard, But there he made no stay, He just tied up his Garters, took a deep breath, And ran like the wind away.

Past Forest, River, Mountain, River, Forest- He coursed the whole night through, Till morning found him come into a Country, Where none his bad face knew.