With his head on thick paws sleeps a sheep-dog,
There stoops the Shepherd, and see,
All follow-my-leader the ducks waddle homeward,
Under the sycamore tree.
Very brown is the face of the Sailor,
His bundle is crimson, and green
Are the thick leafy boughs that hang dense o'er the Tavern,
And blue the far meadows between.
But the Crust, Ale and Cheese of the Sailor,
His Mug and his platter of Delf,
And the crescent to light home the Shepherd and Sheep-dog
The painter has kept to himself.
THE LITTLE OLD CUPID
'Twas a very small garden;
The paths were of stone,
Scattered with leaves,
With moss overgrown;
And a little old Cupid
Stood under a tree,
With a small broken bow
He stood aiming at me.
The dog-rose in briars
Hung over the weeds,
The air was aflock
With the floating of seed,
And a little old Cupid
Stood under a tree,
With a small broken bow
He stood aiming at me.
The dovecote was tumbling,
The fountain dry,
A wind in the orchard
Went whispering by;
And a little old Cupid
Stood under a tree,
With a small broken bow
He stood aiming at me.
KING DAVID
King David was a sorrowful man:
No cause for his sorrow had he;
And he called for the music of a hundred harps,
To ease his melancholy.
They played till they all fell silent:
Played-and play sweet did they;
But the sorrow that haunted the heart of King David
They could not charm away.