Volume II Part 11 (1/2)
ON THE DOWNS
Wide-eyed our childhood roamed the world Knee-deep in blowing gra.s.s, And watched the white clouds crisply curled Above the mountain-pa.s.s, And lay among the purple thyme And from its fragrance caught Strange hints from some elusive clime Beyond the bounds of thought.
Glimpses of fair forgotten things Beyond the gates of birth, Half-caught from far off ancient springs In heaven, and half of earth; And coloured like a fairy-tale And whispering evermore Half memories from the half-fenced pale Of lives we lived before.
Here, weary of the roaring town A-while may I return And while the west wind roams the down Lie still, lie still and learn: Here are green leagues of murmuring wheat With blue skies overhead, And, all around, the winds are sweet With May-bloom, white and red.
And, to and fro, the bee still hums His low unchanging song, And the same rustling whisper comes As through the ages long: Through all the thousands of the years That same sweet rumour flows, With dreaming skies and gleaming tears And kisses and the rose.
Once more the children throng the lanes, Themselves like flowers, to weave Their garlands and their daisy-chains And listen and believe The tale of _Once-upon-a-time_, And hear the _Long-ago_ And _Happy-ever-after_ chime Because it must be so.
And by those thousands of the years It is, though scarce we see, Dazed with the rainbows of our tears, Their steadfast unity, It is, or life's disjointed schemes, These stones, these ferns unfurled With such deep care--a madman's dreams Were wisdom to this world!
Dust into dust! Lie still and learn, Hear how the ages sing The solemn joy of our return To that which makes the Spring: Even as we came, with childhood's trust, Wide-eyed we go, to Thee Who holdest In Thy sacred dust The heavenly Springs to be.
A MAY-DAY CAROL
What is the loveliest light that Spring Rosily parting her robe of grey Girdled with leaflet green, can fling Over the fields where her white feet stray?
What is the merriest promise of May Flung o'er the dew-drenched April flowers?
Tell me, you on the pear-tree spray-- _Carol of birds between the showers_.
What can life at its lightest bring Better than this on its brightest day?
How should we fetter the white-throat's wing Wild with joy of its woodland way?
Sweet, should love for an hour delay, Swift, while the primrose-time is ours!
What is the lover's royallest lay?-- _Carol of birds between the showers_.
What is the murmur of bees a-swing?
What is the laugh of a child at play?
What is the song that the angels sing?
(Where were the tune could the sweet notes stay Longer than this, to kiss and betray?) Nay, on the blue sky's topmost towers, What is the song of the seraphim? Say-- _Carol of birds between the showers._
Thread the stars on a silver string, (So did they sing in Bethlehem's bowers!) Mirth for a little one, grief for a king, _Carol of birds between the showers_.
THE CALL OF THE SPRING
Come, choose your road and away, my lad, Come, choose your road and away!
We'll out of the town by the road's bright crown As it dips to the dazzling day.
It's a long white road for the weary; But it rolls through the heart of the May.