Songs of Childhood | Page 5

96
THE LAMPLIGHTER,
98
CECIL,
100
I MET AT EVE,
102
LULLABY
104
ENVOY,
106
THE GNOMIES
As I lay awake in the white moonlight,
I heard a sweet singing in the
wood--
'Out of bed,
Sleepyhead,
Put your white foot now,
Here are we,

'Neath the tree,
Singing round the root now!'
I looked out of window in the white moonlight,
The trees were like
snow in the wood--
'Come away
Child and play,
Light wi' the gnomies;
In a mound,

Green and round,
That's where their home is!
'Honey sweet,

Curds to eat,
Cream and frumènty,
Shells and beads,
Poppy seeds,

You shall have plenty.'
But soon as I stooped in the dim moonlight
To put on my stocking
and my shoe,
The sweet, sweet singing died sadly away,
And the
light of the morning peep'd through:
Then instead of the gnomies
there came a red robin
To sing of the buttercups and dew.
BLUEBELLS
Where the bluebells and the wind are,
Fairies in a ring I spied,
And
I heard a little linnet
Singing near beside.

Where the primrose and the dew are,
Soon were sped the fairies all:

Only now the green turf freshens,
And the linnets call.
LOVELOCKS
I watched the Lady Caroline
Bind up her dark and beauteous hair;

Her face was rosy in the glass,
And 'twixt the coils her hands would
pass,
White in the candleshine.
Her bottles on the table lay,
Stoppered yet sweet of violet;
Her
image in the mirror stooped
To view those locks as lightly looped
As cherry-boughs in May.
The snowy night lay dim without,
I heard the Waits their sweet song
sing;
The window smouldered keen with frost;
Yet still she twisted,
sleeked and tossed
Her beauteous hair about.
O DEAR ME!
Here are crocuses, white, gold, grey!
'O dear me!' says Marjorie May;

Flat as a platter the blackberry blows:
'O dear me!' says Madeleine
Rose;
The leaves are fallen, the swallows flown:
'O dear me!' says
Humphrey John;
Snow lies thick where all night it fell:
'O dear me!'
says Emmanuel.
TARTARY
If I were Lord of Tartary,
Myself and me alone,
My bed should be
of ivory,
Of beaten gold my throne;
And in my court should
peacocks flaunt,
And in my forests tigers haunt,
And in my pools
great fishes slant
Their fins athwart the sun.

If I were Lord of Tartary,
Trumpeters every day
To all my meals
should summon me,
And in my courtyards bray;
And in the
evenings lamps should shine,
Yellow as honey, red as wine,
While
harp, and flute, and mandoline,
Made music sweet and gay.
If I were Lord of Tartary,
I'd wear a robe of beads,
White, and gold,
and green they'd be--
And small, and thick as seeds;
And ere should
wane the morning-star,
I'd don my robe and scimitar,
And zebras
seven should draw my car
Through Tartary's dark glades.
Lord of the fruits of Tartary,
Her rivers silver-pale!
Lord of the hills
of Tartary,
Glen, thicket, wood, and dale!
Her flashing stars, her
scented breeze,
Her trembling lakes, like foamless seas,
Her
bird-delighting citron-trees
In every purple vale!
THE BUCKLE
I had a silver buckle,
I sewed it on my shoe,
And 'neath a sprig of
mistletoe
I danced the evening through!
I had a bunch of cowslips,
I hid 'em in a grot,
In case the elves
should come by night
And me remember not.
I had a yellow riband,
I tied it in my hair,
That, walking in the
garden,
The birds might see it there.
I had a secret laughter,
I laughed it near the wall:
Only the ivy and
the wind
May tell of it at all.
THE HARE
In the black furrow of a field
I saw an old witch-hare this night;

And