SOME SONGS AFTER MASTER SINGERS

I

SONG

[W.S.]

With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho rhyme!

O the shepherd lad

He is ne'er so glad

As when he pipes, in the blossom-time,

So rare!

While Kate picks by, yet looks not there.

So rare! so rare!

With a hey! and a hi! and a ho!

The grasses curdle where the daisies blow!

With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho vow!

Then he sips her face

At the sweetest place—

And ho! how white is the hawthorn now!—

So rare!—

And the daisied world rocks round them there.

So rare! so rare!

With a hey! and a hi! and a ho!

The grasses curdle where the daisies blow!

"While kate picks by, yet looks not there."

II

TO THE CHILD JULIA

[R.H.]

Little Julia, since that we

May not as our elders be,

Let us blithely fill the days

Of our youth with pleasant plays.

First we'll up at earliest dawn,

While as yet the dew is on

The sooth'd grasses and the pied

Blossomings of morningtide;

Next, with rinsed cheeks that shine

As the enamell'd eglantine,

We will break our fast on bread

With both cream and honey spread;

Then, with many a challenge-call,

We will romp from house and hall,

Gypsying with the birds and bees

Of the green-tress'd garden trees.

In a bower of leaf and vine

Thou shalt be a lady fine

Held in duress by the great

Giant I shall personate.

Next, when many mimics more

Like to these we have played o'er,

We'll betake us home-along

Hand in hand at evensong.

III

THE DOLLY'S MOTHER

[W.W.]

A little maid, of summers four—

Did you compute her years,—

And yet how infinitely more

To me her age appears:

I mark the sweet child's serious air,

At her unplayful play,—

The tiny doll she mothers there

And lulls to sleep away,

Grows—'neath the grave similitude—

An infant real, to me,

And she a saint of motherhood

In hale maturity.

So, pausing in my lonely round,

And all unseen of her,

I stand uncovered—her profound

And abject worshipper.

"Lend me the breath of a freshening gale."

IV

WIND OF THE SEA

[A.T.]

Wind of the Sea, come fill my sail—

Lend me the breath of a freshening gale

And bear my port-worn ship away!

For O the greed of the tedious town—

The shutters up and the shutters down!

Wind of the Sea, sweep over the bay

And bear me away!—away!

Whither you bear me, Wind of the Sea,

Matters never the least to me:

Give me your fogs, with the sails adrip,

Or the weltering path thro' the starless night—

On, somewhere, is a new daylight

And the cheery glint of another ship

As its colors dip and dip!

Wind of the Sea, sweep over the bay

And bear me away!—away!

V

SUBTLETY

[R.B.]

Whilst little Paul, convalescing, was staying

Close indoors, and his boisterous classmates paying

Him visits, with fresh school-notes and surprises,—

With nettling pride they sprung the word "Athletic,"

With much advice and urgings sympathetic

Anent "Athletic exercises." Wise as

Lad might look, quoth Paul: "I've pondered o'er that

'Athletic,' but I mean to take, before that,

Downstairic and outdooric exercises."

VI

BORN TO THE PURPLE

[W.M.]

Most-like it was this kingly lad

Spake out of the pure joy he had

In his child-heart of the wee maid

Whose eerie beauty sudden laid

A spell upon him, and his words

Burst as a song of any bird's:—

A peerless Princess thou shalt be,

Through wit of love's rare sorcery:

To crown the crown of thy gold hair

Thou shalt have rubies, bleeding there

Their crimson splendor midst the marred

Pulp of great pearls, and afterward

Leaking in fainter ruddy stains

Adown thy neck-and-armlet-chains

Of turquoise, chrysoprase, and mad

Light-frenzied diamonds, dartling glad

Swift spirts of shine that interfuse

As though with lucent crystal dews

That glance and glitter like split rays

Of sunshine, born of burgeoning Mays

When the first bee tilts down the lip

Of the first blossom, and the drip

Of blended dew and honey heaves

Him blinded midst the underleaves.

For raiment, Fays shall weave for thee—

Out of the phosphor of the sea

And the frayed floss of starlight, spun

With counterwarp of the firm sun—

A vesture of such filmy sheen

As, through all ages, never queen

Therewith strove truly to make less

One fair line of her loveliness.

Thus gowned and crowned with gems and gold,

Thou shalt, through centuries untold,

Rule, ever young and ever fair,

As now thou rulest, smiling there.