Peacock Pie, A Book of Rhymes | Page 7

table round.
The smell that rose up richly from the Baked Meats?Came thinning amid the boughs,?And much that greedy Thief who snuffed the night airHis?Hunger did arouse.
He watched them eating, drinking, laughing, talking,?Busy with finger and spoon,?While three most cunning Fiddlers, clad in crimson,?Played them a supper-tune.
And he waited in the tree-top like a Starling,?Till the Moon was gotten low;?When all the windows in the walls were darkened,?He softly in did go.
There Robin and his Dame in bed were sleeping,?And his Children young and fair;?Only Robin's Hounds from their warm kennels?Yelped as he climbed the stair.
All, all were sleeping, page and fiddler,?Cook, scullion, free from care;?Only Robin's Stallions from their stables?Neighed as he climbed the stair.
A wee wan light the Moon did shed him,?Hanging above the sea,?And he counted into his bag (of beaten Silver)?Platters thirty-three.
Of Spoons three score; of jolly golden Goblets?He stowed in four save one,?And six fine three-branched Cupid Candlesticks,?Before his work was done.
Nine bulging bags of Money in a cupboard,?Two Snuffers, and a Dish?He found, the last all studded with great Garnets?And shapen like a Fish.
Then tiptoe up he stole into a Chamber,?Where on Tasselled Pillows lay?Robin and his Daule in dreaming slumbers?Tired with the summer's day.
That Thief he mimbled round him in the gloaming,?Their treasure for to spy,?Combs, Brooches, Chains, and, Rings, and Pins and Buckles?All higgledy, Piggle-dy.
A Watch shaped in the shape of a flat Apple?In purest crystal set?He lifted from the hook where it was ticking?And crammed in his Pochette.
He heaped the pretty Baubles on the table,?Trinketsi Knick-knackerie,?Pearls, Diamonds, Sapphires, Topazes, and OpalsAll?in his bag put he.
And there in night's pale Gloom was Robin dreaming?He was hunting the mountain Bear,?While his Dame in peaceful slumber in no wise heeded?A greedy Thief was there.
And that ravenous Thief he climbed up even higher,?Till into a chamber small?He crept where lay poor Robin's beauteous Children,?Lovelier in sleep withal.
Oh, fairer was their Hair than Gold of Goblet,?'Yond Silver their Cheeks did shine,?And their little hands that lay upon the linen?Made that Thief's hard heart to pine.
But though a moment there his hard heart faltered,?Eftsoones be took them twain,?And slipped them into his Bag with all his Plunder,?And soft stole down again.
Spoon, Platter, Goblet, Ducats, Dishes, Trinkets,?And those two Children dear,?A-quaking in the clinking and the clanking,?And half bemused with fear,
He carried down the stairs into the Courtyard,?But there he made no stay,?He just tied up his Garters, took a deep breath,?And ran like the wind away.
Past Forest, River, Mountain, River, ForestHe?coursed the whole night through,?Till morning found him come into a Country,?Where none his bad face knew.
Past Mountain, River, Forest, River, MountainThat?Thief's lean shanks sped on,?Till Evening found him knocking at a Dark House,?His breath now well-nigh gone.
There came a little maid and asked his Business;?A Cobbler dwelt within;?And though she much misliked the Bag he carried,?She led the Bad Man in.
He bargained with the Cobbler for a lodging?And soft laid down his SackIn?the Dead of Night, with none to spy or listenFrom?off his weary back.
And he taught the little Chicks to call him Father,?And he sold his stolen Pelf,?And bought a Palace, Horses, Slaves, and Peacocks?To ease his wicked self.
And though the Children never really loved him,?He was rich past all belief;?While Robin and his Dame o'er Delf and Pewter?Spent all their Days in Grief.
PLACES AND PEOPLE
A WIDOW'S WEEDS
A poor old Widow in her weeds?Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;?Not too shallow, and not too deep,?And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.?Up shone May, like gold, and soon?Green as an arbour grew leafy June.?And now all summer she sits and sews?Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,?Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,?Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;?Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;?Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;?Like Oberon's meadows her garden is?Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.?Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,?And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;?And all she has is all she needs --?A poor Old Widow in her weeds.
'SOOEEP!'
Black as a chimney is his face,
And ivory white his teeth,?And in his brass-bound cart he rides,
The chestnut blooms beneath.
'Sooeep, Sooeep!' he cries, and brightly peers
This way and that, to see?With his two light-blue shining eyes
What custom there may be.
And once inside the house, he'll squat,
And drive his rods on high,?Till twirls his sudden sooty brush
Against the morning sky.
Then, 'mid his bulging bags of soot,
With half the world asleep,?His small cart wheels him off again,
Still hoarsely bawling, 'Sooeep!'
MRS. MACQUEEN (OR THE LOLLIE-SHOP)
With glass like a bull's-eye,?And shutters of green,?Down on the cobbles?Lives Mrs. MacQueen,
At six she rises;?At nine you see?Her candle shine out?In the linden tree:
And at half-past nine?Not a sound is nigh?But the bright moon's creeping?Across the sky;
Or a far dog baying;?Or a twittering bird?In its drowsy nest,?In the darkness stirred;
Or like the roar?Of a distant sea?A long-drawn S-s-sh?In the linden tree.
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