Songs of Childhood | Page 7

towers and groves of Arroar.
REVERIE
When slim Sophia mounts her horse
And paces down the avenue,
It seems an inward melody
She paces to.
Each narrow hoof is lifted high
Beneath the dark enclust'ring pines,

A silver ray within his bit
And bridle shines.
His eye burns deep, his tail is arched,
And streams upon the shadowy
air,
The daylight sleeks his jetty flanks,
His mistress' hair.

Her habit flows in darkness down,
Upon the stirrup rests her foot,

Her brow is lifted, as if earth
She heeded not.
'Tis silent in the avenue,
The sombre pines are mute of song,
The
blue is dark, there moves no breeze
The boughs among.
When slim Sophia mounts her horse
And paces down the avenue,
It
seems an inward melody
She paces to.
THE THREE BEGGARS
'Twas autumn daybreak gold and wild,
While past St Ann's grey
tower they shuffled,
Three beggars spied a fairy-child
In crimson mantle muffled.
The daybreak lighted up her face
All pink, and sharp, and
emerald-eyed;
She looked on them a little space,
And shrill as hautboy cried:--
'O three tall footsore men of rags
Which walking this gold morn I see,

What will ye give me from your bags
For fairy kisses three?'
The first, that was a reddish man,
Out of his bundle takes a crust:

'La, by the tombstones of St Ann,
There's fee, if fee ye must!'
The second, that was a chesnut man,
Out of his bundle draws a bone:


'La, by the belfry of St Ann,
And all my breakfast gone!'
The third, that was a yellow man,
Out of his bundle picks a groat,

'La, by the Angel of St Ann,
And I must go without.'
That changeling, lean and icy-lipped,
Touched crust, and bone, and
groat, and lo!
Beneath her finger taper-tipped
The magic all ran through.
Instead of crust a peacock pie,
Instead of bone sweet venison,

Instead of groat a white lilie
With seven blooms thereon.
And each fair cup was deep with wine:
Such was the changeling's
charity,
The sweet feast was enough for nine,
But not too much for three.
O toothsome meat in jelly froze!
O tender haunch of elfin stag!
O
rich the odour that arose!
O plump with scraps each bag!
There, in the daybreak gold and wild,
Each merry-hearted beggar
man
Drank deep unto the fairy child,
And blessed the good St Ann.
THE DWARF
'Now, Jinnie, my dear, to the dwarf be off,

That lives in Barberry Wood,
And fetch me some honey, but be sure
you don't laugh,-- He hates little girls that are rude, are rude,
He hates
little girls that are rude.'
Jane tapped at the door of the house in the wood,
And the dwarf looked over the wall,
He eyed her so queer, 'twas as
much as she could
To keep from laughing at all, at all,
To keep
from laughing at all.
His shoes down the passage came clod, clod, clod,
And when he opened the door,
He croaked so harsh, 'twas as much as
she could
To keep from laughing the more, the more,
To keep from
laughing the more.
As there, with his bushy red beard, he stood,
Pricked out to double its size,
He squinted so cross, 'twas as much as
she could
To keep the tears out of her eyes, her eyes,
To keep the
tears out of her eyes.
He slammed the door, and went clod, clod, clod,
But while in the porch she bides,
He squealed so fierce, 'twas as much
as she could
To keep from cracking her sides, her sides,
To keep
from cracking her sides.
He threw a pumpkin over the wall,
And melons and apples beside,
So thick in the air, that to see 'em all
fall,
She laughed, and laughed, till she cried, cried, cried, Jane
laughed and laughed till she cried.
Down fell her teardrops a pit-apat-pat,
And red as a rose she grew;--
'Kah! kah!' said the dwarf, 'is it crying

you're at?
It's the very worst thing you could do, do, do,
It's the very
worst thing you could do.'
He slipped like a monkey up into a tree,
He shook her down cherries like rain;
'See now,' says he, cheeping, 'a
blackbird I be,
Laugh, laugh, little Jinnie, again-gain-gain,
Laugh,
laugh, little Jinnie, again.'
Ah me! what a strange, what a gladsome duet
From a house i' the deeps of a wood!
Such shrill and such harsh
voices never met yet
A-laughing as loud as they could-could-could,

A-laughing as loud as they could.
Come Jinnie, come dwarf, cocksparrow, and bee,
There's a ring gaudy-green in the dell,
Sing, sing, ye sweet cherubs,
that flit in the tree;
La! who can draw tears from a well-well-well,

Who ever drew tears from a well!
ALULVAN
The sun is clear of bird and cloud,
The grass shines windless, grey,
and still,
In dusky ruin the owl dreams on,
The cuckoo echoes on
the hill;
Yet soft along Alulvan's walks
The ghost at noonday stalks.
His eyes in shadow of his hat
Stare on the ruins of his house;
His
cloak, up-fasten'd with a brooch,
Of faded velvet grey as mouse,

Brushes the roses as