RAIN-ON-THE-ROOF
Rain upon the roof in the garret; little fingers knocking on the pane;
A fairy voice is calling in the splashing and the falling,
“I am the rain—the rain!”
Shadows, shadows, shadows, in the corner by the eaves;
Wet against the windows lie the little faded leaves.
Rain upon the roof in the garret; play we are a pirate crew at sea;
Play the old oak chest, in the veil of cobwebs dressed,
Is a leaking, creaking ship, the “Stinging Bee”;
Play the broken cradle, where our pile of play-things lie,
Is an island full of treasure, where we’ll anchor by and by.
Rain upon the roof in the garret; shadows, dust, and cobwebs all around;
We know the game to play, on a dark and blowy day,
And we launch the “Stinging Bee” without a sound;
With a pilot at the spinning wheel, we’ll land, at the break of day,
On lonely Cradle Island, and steal all the things away.
PRINCESS FIRE
The gray fog folds the houses round,
The rain falls from the sky,
And in the house, all snug and warm,
Are Princess Fire and I;
She wears a gown of changing red
And while she sings to me
She dances gayly to and fro
With laughing witchery.
Oh, weary, weary, weary wheels,
Slow turning in the street;
Oh, lamps that burn so bravely there,
Through all the mist and sleet;
Oh, great bleak wind from northern lands
That beats against the pane—
To your cold realms I banish you;—
To darkness and the rain.
Upon the hearthstone here within
The ruddy comfort gleams,
And Princess Fire her province rules,
The while her subject dreams;
And here are warmth, and cheer, and light,
And here no need to sigh;—
A lover and his lady bright—
Good Princess Fire and I.