Tune - "Lumps o' Pudding."


I.

    Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,
    Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow end care,
    I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
    Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang.

II.

    I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought;
    But man is a sodger, and life is a faught:
    My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
    And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch.

III.

    A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
    A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a':
    When at the blithe end o' our journey at last,
    Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?

IV.

    Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her w...

It was Chrismus Eve, I mind hit fu' a mighty gloomy day--
Bofe de weathah an' de people--not a one of us was gay;
Cose you 'll t'ink dat 's mighty funny 'twell I try to mek hit cleah,
Fu' a da'ky 's allus happy when de holidays is neah.

But we wasn't, fu' dat mo'nin' Mastah 'd tol' us we mus' go,
He 'd been payin' us sence freedom, but he couldn't pay no mo';'
He wa'n't nevah used to plannin' 'fo' he got so po' an' ol',
So he gwine to give up tryin', an' de homestead mus' be sol'.

I kin see him stan'in' now erpon de step ez cleah ez day,
Wid de win' a-kind o' fondlin' thoo his haih all thin an' gray;
An' I 'membah how he trimbled when he said, "It's ha 'd fu' me,
Not to mek yo' Chrismus brightah, but I 'low it wa'n't to be."

All de women was a-cryin', an' de men...

I.

All desolate she sate her down
Upon the marble of the temple's stair.
You would have thought her, with her eyes of brown,
Flushed cheeks and hazel hair,
A dryad dreaming there.

II.

A priest of Bacchus passed, nor stopped
To chide her; deeming her whose chiton hid
But half her bosom, and whose girdle dropped
Some grief-drowned Bassarid,
The god of wine had chid.

III.

With wreaths of woodland cyclamen
For Dian's shrine, a shepherdess drew near,
All her young thoughts on vestal beauty, when
She dare not look for fear
Behold the goddess here!

IV.

Fierce lights on shields of bossy brass
And helms of gold, next from the hills deploy
Tall youths of Argos. And she sees him pass,
Flushed with he...

All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away,
Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
The forms of men shall be as they had never been;
The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and tender green;
The birds of the thicket shall end their pleasant song,
And the nigthingale* shall cease to chant the evening long.
The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that kills,
And all the fair white flocks shall perish from the hills.
The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the fox,
The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois of the rocks,
And the strong and fearless bear, in the trodden dust shall lie,
And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty whale, shall die.
And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be no more,
And they shall bow to death, who ruled from ...

Swift, through some trap mine eyes have never found,
Dim-panelled in the painted scene of Sleep,
Thou, giant Harlequin of Dreams, dost leap
Upon my spirit's stage. Then Sight and Sound,
Then Space and Time, then Language, Mete and Bound,
And all familiar Forms that firmly keep
Man's reason in the road, change faces, peep
Betwixt the legs and mock the daily round.
Yet thou canst more than mock: sometimes my tears
At midnight break through bounden lids - a sign
Thou hast a heart: and oft thy little leaven
Of dream-taught wisdom works me bettered years.
In one night witch, saint, trickster, fool divine,
I think thou'rt Jester at the Court of Heaven!


Baltimore, 1878.

Quick throbb'd my heart: to norse! haste, haste,

And lo! 'twas done with speed of light;
The evening soon the world embraced,

And o'er the mountains hung the night.
Soon stood, in robe of mist, the oak,

A tow'ring giant in his size,
Where darkness through the thicket broke,

And glared with hundred gloomy eyes.

From out a hill of clouds the moon

With mournful gaze began to peer:
The winds their soft wings flutter'd soon,

And murmur'd in mine awe-struck ear;
The night a thousand monsters made,

Yet fresh and joyous was my mind;
What fire within my veins then play'd!

What glow was in my bosom shrin'd!

I saw thee, and with tender pride

Felt thy sweet gaze pour joy on me;
While all my heart ...

As I rode in the early dawn,
While stars were fading white,
I saw upon a grassy slope
A camp-fire burning bright;
With tent behind and blaze before,
Three loggers in a row
Sang all together joyously
Pull up the stakes and go!

As I rode on by Eagle Hawk,
The wide blue deep of air,
The wind through the glittering leaves,
The flowers so sweet and fair,
The thunder of the rude salt waves,
The creek’s soft overflow,
All joined in chorus to the words
Pull up the stakes and go!

Now by the tent on forest skirt,
By odour of the earth,
By sight and scent of morning smoke,
By evening camp-fire’s mirth,
By deep-sea call and foaming green,
By new stars’ gleam and glow,
By summer trails in antique lands
Pull up the stakes and g...

        [Coals.]

    Black we are, but much admired;
    Men seek for us till they are tired.
    We tire the horse, but comfort man
    Tell me this riddle if you can.

For truth I may this sentence tell,
No man dies ill, that liveth well.

But a fortnight later, by an autumn tree,
Aileen and her brother came my way,
And another, glad to tell the names of them and me,
And to hear how travellers can play.

Life is but a journey, say we evermore,
Passing lights the years have, like a train;
Three good friends will travel up to heaven's door,
With the world a merry window-pane.

    O the Lands of Where-Away!
    Tell us - tell us - where are they?
    Through the darkness and the dawn
    We have journeyed on and on -
    From the cradle to the cross -
    From possession unto loss, -
    Seeking still, from day to day,
    For the lands of Where-Away.

    When our baby-feet were first
    Planted where the daisies burst,
    And the greenest grasses grew
    In the fields we wandered through,
    On, with childish discontent,
    Ever on and on we went,
    Hoping still to pass, some day,
    O'er the verge of Where-Away.

    Roses laid their velvet lips
    On our own, with fragrant sips;
    But their kisses held us not,
    All their sweetness we forgot; -
    Though the brambles in our track
...

I know thou art true, and I know thou art fair
As the rose-bud that blooms in thy beautiful hair;
Thou art far, but I feel the warm throb of thy heart;
Thou art far, but I love thee wherever thou art.

Wherever at noontide my spirit may be,
At evening it silently wanders to thee;
It seeks thee, my dear one, for comfort and rest,
As the weary-winged dove seeks at night-fall her nest.

Through the battle of life through its sorrow and care
Till the mortal sink down with its load of despair,
Till we meet at the feet of the Father and Son,
I'll love thee and cherish thee, beautiful one.

"Yes!" I answered you last night;
"No!" this morning, Sir, I say!
Colours, seen by candle-light,
Will not look the same by day.

When the tabors played their best,
Lamps above, and laughs below
Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for Yes or fit for No!

Call me false, or call me free
Vow, whatever light may shine,
No man on your face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.

Yet the sin is on us both
Time to dance is not to woo
Wooer light makes fickle troth
Scorn of me recoils on you!

Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly, as the thing is high;
Bravely, as for life and death
With a loyal gravity.

Lead her from the festive boards,
Point her to the starry skies,
Guard her, by your truthful words,
Pure from c...

The battles ended, ardent Paris dead,
    Of faithful Menelaus long bereft,
    Time is the only suitor who is left:
Helen survives, with youth and beauty fled.
By hate remembered, but by love forgot,
    Dethroned and driven from her high estate,
    Unhappy Helen feels the lash of Fate
And knows at last an unloved woman's lot.
The Grecian marvel, and the Trojan joy,
    The world's fair wonder, from her palace flies
    The furies follow, and great Helen dies,
A death of horror, for the pride of Troy.

* * *

Yet Time, like Menelaus, all forgives.
Helen, immortal in her beauty, lives.

[W.M.]


Most-like it was this kingly lad
Spake out of the pure joy he had
In his child-heart of the wee maid
Whose eerie beauty sudden laid
A spell upon him, and his words
Burst as a song of any bird's: -

A peerless Princess thou shalt be,
Through wit of love's rare sorcery:
To crown the crown of thy gold hair
Thou shalt have rubies, bleeding there
Their crimson splendor midst the marred
Pulp of great pearls, and afterward


Leaking in fainter ruddy stains
Adown thy neck-and-armlet-chains
Of turquoise, chrysoprase, and mad
Light-frenzied diamonds, dartling glad
Swift spirts of shine that interfuse
As though with lucent crystal dews
That glance and glitter like split rays
Of sunshine, born of burgeoning Mays
W...

    When Death's dark stream I ferry o'er,
        A time that surely shall come;
    In Heaven itself I'll ask no more
        Than just a Highland welcome.

Jump jump jump
Jump away
From this town into
The next, to-day.

Jump jump jump
Jump over the moon;
Jump all the morning,
And all the noon.

Jump jump jump
Jump all night;
Won't our mothers
Be in a fright?

Jump jump jump
Over the sea;
What wonderful wonders
We shall see.

Jump jump jump
And leave behind
Everything evil
That we may find.

Jump jump jump
Jump far away;
And all come home
Some other day.

The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.

The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.

But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?

When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?

It may be strange, yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?

Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indem...