Thank Heaven, in these despondent days,
I have at least one faithful friend,
Who meekly listens to my lays,
As o'er the darkened downs we wend.
Nay, naught of mine may him offend;
In sooth he is a courteous wight,
His constancy needs no amend—
My shadow on a moonlight night.
Too proud to give me perjured praise,
He hearkens as we onward tend,
And ne'er disputes a doubtful phrase,
Nor says he cannot comprehend.
Might God such critics always send!
He turns not to the left or right,
But patient follows to the end—
My shadow on a moonlight night.
And if the public grant me bays,
On him no jealousies descend;
But through the midnight woodland ways,
He velvet-footed will attend;
Or where the chalk cliffs downward bend
To meet the sea all silver-bright,
There will he come, most reverend—
My shadow on a moonlight night.
Envoy.
O wise companion, I commend
Your grace in being silent quite;
And envy with approval blend—
My shadow on a moonlight night.
William Black.
A BALLADE OF BOTHERS.
From country, from coast and from city,
From nowhere and goodness knows where,
The visitors come without pity,
There is not a corner to spare;
And students with work to prepare
Must charter a captive balloon
And study aloft in the air,
For the May Week has fallen in June.
The grinding of feet that are gritty
So ceaseless on landing and stair;
The notes of some drawing-room ditty
Disturb the recluse in his lair
And cause him to clutch at his hair
As he toils in the hot afternoon;
But nobody hears if he swear,
For the May Week has fallen in June.