Volume I Part 12 (1/2)

And she followed a b.u.t.terfly up to his chair; and the moon-calf caught at her hand And stared at her wide blue startled eyes and muttered, ”My dear, I have been, In fact, I am there at this moment, I think, in a wonderful fairy-land:”

And he bent and he whispered it low in her ear--”_I know why the gra.s.s is green._

VIII

”I know why the daisy is white, my dear, I know why the seas are blue; I know that the world is a dream, my dear, and I know that the dream is true; I know why the rose and the toad-stool grow, as a curse and a crimson boon, _Hey! diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon._

IX

”If I gaze at a rose, do you know, it grows till it overshadows the earth, Like a wonderful Tree of Knowledge, my dear, the Tree of our evil and good; But I dare not tell you the terrible vision that gave the toad-stool birth, The dream of a heart that breaks, my dear, and a Tree that is bitter with blood.

X

”Oh, Love may wander wide as the wind that blows from sea to sea, But a wooden dream, for me, my dear, and a painted memory; For the G.o.d that has bidden the toad-stool grow has writ in his cosmic rune, _Hey! diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon._”

XI

Then he stared at the child and he laughed aloud, and she suddenly screamed and fled, As he dreamed of enticing her out thro' the ferns to a quarry that gapped the hill, To hurtle her down and grin as her gold hair scattered around her head Far, far below, like a sunflower disk, so crimson-spattered and still.

XII

”Ah, hus.h.!.+” he cried; and his dark old eyes were wet with a sacred love As he kissed the wooden face of his doll and winked at the skies above, ”I know, I know why the toad-stools grow, and the rest of the world will, soon; _Hey! diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon._”

XIII

”_Blue and red and yellow and green they are all mixed up in the white; Hey! but the wise old world was wrong and my idiot heart was right; Yes; and the merry-go-round of the stars rolls to my cracked old tune, Hey! diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon._”

THE BARREL-ORGAN

There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden street In the City as the sun sinks low; And the music's not immortal; but the world has made it sweet And fulfilled it with the sunset glow; And it pulses through the pleasures of the City and the pain That surround the singing organ like a large eternal light; And they've given it a glory and a part to play again In the Symphony that rules the day and night.

And now it's marching onward through the realms of old romance, And trolling out a fond familiar tune, And now it's roaring cannon down to fight the King of France, And now it's prattling softly to the moon, And all around the organ there's a sea without a sh.o.r.e Of human joys and wonders and regrets; To remember and to recompense the music evermore For what the cold machinery forgets....

Yes; as the music changes, Like a prismatic gla.s.s, It takes the light and ranges Through all the moods that pa.s.s; Dissects the common carnival Of pa.s.sions and regrets, And gives the world a glimpse of all The colours it forgets.

And there _La Traviata_ sighs Another sadder song; And there _Il Trovatore_ cries A tale of deeper wrong; And bolder knights to battle go With sword and s.h.i.+eld and lance, Than ever here on earth below Have whirled into--_a dance_!--

Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time; Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!) And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland; Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)

The cherry-trees are seas of bloom and soft perfume and sweet perfume, The cherry-trees are seas of bloom (and oh, so near to London!) And there they say, when dawn is high and all the world's a blaze of sky The cuckoo, though he's very shy, will sing a song for London.

The Dorian nightingale is rare and yet they say you'll hear him there At Kew, at Kew in lilac-time (and oh, so near to London!) The linnet and the throstle, too, and after dark the long halloo And golden-eyed _tu-whit, tu-whoo_ of owls that ogle London.

For Noah hardly knew a bird of any kind that isn't heard At Kew, at Kew in lilac-time (and oh, so near to London!) And when the rose begins to pout and all the chestnut spires are out You'll hear the rest without a doubt, all chorussing for London:--

_Come down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time; Come down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!) And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland; Come down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)_