THE BLACKBIRD’S SONG.
Though the fame of Henry Kingsley (1830–1876) is eclipsed by that of his elder brother, Charles, many critics have been bold enough to predict that the time will come when the English-speaking world will recognize the younger of these brothers as the greater writer. Henry Kingsley, leaving Oxford without taking a degree, went to Australia when he was twenty-three years old, and it was not until his return to England, five years later, that he addressed himself to novel-writing. His most popular books were “Geoffrey Hamlin” and “Ravenshoe.” He wrote few poems, and of these “The Blackbird’s Song,” which is here reprinted for the readers of The Scrap Book, probably is the best known. It has the real lilt of the English blackbird, and this, together with its quaint diction, gives to it a peculiar quality that causes it to linger in the mind long after the book containing the poem has been laid aside.
By HENRY KINGSLEY.
Magdalen at Michael’s gate
Tirled at the pin;
On Joseph’s thorn sang the blackbird,
“Let her in! let her in!”
“Hast thou seen the wounds?” said Michael;
“Know’st thou thy sin?”
“It is evening, evening,” sang the blackbird,
“Let her in! let her in!”
“Yes, I have seen the wounds,
And I know my sin.”
“She knows it well, well, well,” sang the blackbird:
“Let her in! let her in!”
“Thou bringest no offerings,” said Michael,
“Naught save sin.”
And the blackbird sang, “She is sorry, sorry, sorry;
Let her in! let her in!”
When he had sung himself to sleep,
And night did begin,
One came and opened Michael’s gate,
And Magdalen went in.