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COUNTRY SENTIMENT
by
Robert Graves
To Nancy Nicholson
Note
Some of the poems included in this volume have appeared in
"The New Statesman""The Owl""Reveille""Land and Water"
"Poetry"and other papersEnglish and American.
Robert Graves.
Harlech
North Wales.
CONTENTS
A Frosty Night
Song for Two Children
Dicky
The Three Drinkers
The Boy out of Church
After the Play
One Hard Look
True Johnny
The Voice of Beauty Drowned
The God Called Poetry
Rocky Acres
Advice to Lovers
Nebuchadnezzar's Fall
Give us Rain
Allie
Loving Henry
Brittle Bones
Apples and Water
Manticor in Arabia
Outlaws
Baloo Loo for Jenny
Hawk and Buckle
The "Alice Jean"
The Cupboard
The Beacon
Pot and Kettle
Ghost Raddled
Neglectful Edward
The Well-dressed Children
Thunder at Night
To E.M.--A Ballad of Nursery Rhyme
Jane
Vain and Careless
Nine o'Clock
The Picture Book
The Promised Lullaby
RETROSPECT
Haunted
Retrospect: The Jests of the Clock
Here They Lie
Tom Taylor
Country at War
Sospan Fach
The Leveller
Hate notFear not
A Rhyme of Friends
A First Review
A FROSTY NIGHT.
Mother
Alicedearwhat ails you
Dazed and white and shaken?
Has the chill night numbed you?
Is it fright you have taken?
Alice
MotherI am very well
I felt never better
Motherdo not hold me so
Let me write my letter.
Mother
Sweetmy dearwhat ails you?
Alice
Nobut I am well;
The night was cold and frosty
There's no more to tell.
Mother
Aythe night was frosty
Coldly gaped the moon
Yet the birds seemed twittering
Through green boughs of June.
Soft and thick the snow lay
Stars danced in the sky.
Not all the lambs of May-day
Skip so bold and high.
Your feet were dancingAlice
Seemed to dance on air
You looked a ghost or angel
In the starlight there.
Your eyes were frosted starlight
Your heart fire and snow.
Who was it said"I love you"?
Alice
Motherlet me go!
A SONG FOR TWO CHILDREN.
"Make a songfathera new little song
All for Jenny and Nancy."
Balow lalow or Hey derry down
Or else what might you fancy?
Is there any song sweet enough
For Nancy and for Jenny?
Said Simple Simon to the pieman
"Indeed I know not any."
"I've counted the miles to Babylon
I've flown the earth like a bird
I've ridden cock-horse to Banbury Cross
But no such song have I heard."
"Some speak of Alexander
And some of Hercules
But where are there any like Nancy and Jenny
Where are there any like these?"
DICKY.
Mother
Ohwhat a heavy sigh!
Dickyare you ailing?
Dicky
Even by this firesidemother
My heart is failing.
To-night across the down
Whistling and jolly
I sauntered out from town
With my stick of holly.
Bounteous and cool from sea
The wind was blowing
Cloud shadows under the moon
Coming and going.
I sang old roaring songs
Ran and leaped quick
And turned home by St. Swithin's
Twirling my stick.
And there as I was passing
The churchyard gate
An old man stopped me"Dicky
You're walking late."
I did not know the man
I grew afeared
At his lean lolling jaw
His spreading beard.
His garments old and musty
Of antique cut
His body very lean and bony
His eyes tight shut.
Oheven to tell it now
My courage ebbs...
His face was claymother
His beardcobwebs.
In that long horrid pause
"Good-night" he said
Entered and clicked the gate
"Each to his bed."
Mother
Do not sigh or fearDicky
How is it right
To grudge the dead their ghostly dark
And wan moonlight?
We have the glorious sun
Lamp and fireside.
Grudge not the dead their moonshine
When abroad they ride.
THE THREE DRINKERS.
Blacksmith Green had three strong sons
With bread and beef did fill 'em
Now John and Ned are perished and dead
But plenty remains of William.
John Green was a whiskey drinker
The Land of Cakes supplied him
Till at last his soul flew out by the hole
That the fierce drink burned inside him.
Ned Green was a water drinker
AndLordhow Ned would fuddle!
He rotted away his mortal clay
Like an old boot thrown in a puddle.
Will Green was a wise young drinker
Shrank from whiskey or water
But he made good cheer with headstrong beer
And married an alderman's daughter.
THE BOY OUT OF CHURCH.
As Jesus and his followers
Upon a Sabbath morn
Were walking by a wheat field
They plucked the ears of corn.
They plucked itthey rubbed it
They blew the husks away
Which grieved the pious pharisees
Upon the Sabbath day.
And Jesus said"A riddle
Answer if you can
Was man made for the Sabbath
Or Sabbath made for man?"
I do not love the Sabbath
The soapsuds and the starch
The troops of solemn people
Who to Salvation march.
I take my bookI take my stick
On the Sabbath day
In woody nooks and valleys
I hide myself away.
To ponder there in quiet
God's Universal Plan
Resolved that church and Sabbath
Were never made for man.
AFTER THE PLAY.
Father
Have you spent the money I gave you to-day?
John
Ayfather I have.
A fourpence on cakestwo pennies that away
To a beggar I gave.
Father
The lake of yellow brimstone boil for you in Hell
Such lies that you spin.
Tell the truth nowJohnere the falsehood swell
Saywhere have you been?
John
I'll lie no more to youfatherwhat is the need?
To the Play I went
With sixpence for a near seatmoney's worth indeed
The best ever spent.
Grief to youshame or griefhere is the story--
My splendid night!
It was colourscentsmusica tragic glory
Fear with delight.
HamletPrince of Denmarktitle of the tale:
He of that name
A tallglum fellowvelvet cloakedwith a shirt of mail
Two eyes like flame.
All the furies of fate circled round the man
Maddening his heart
There was old murder done before play began
Aythe ghost took part.
There were grave-diggers delvingthey brought up bones
And with rage and grief
All the players shouted in fullkingly tones
Grandpassing belief.
Ohthere were ladies there radiant like day
And changing scenes:
Great sounding words were tossed about like hay
By kings and queens.
How the plot turned about I watched in vain
Though for grief I cried
As one and all they fadedpoisoned or slain
In great agony died.
Fatheryou'll drive me forth never to return
Doubting me your son--
Father
So I shallJohn
John
--but that glory for which I burn
Shall be soon begun.
I shall wear great bootsshall strut and shout
Keep my locks curled.
The fame of my name shall go ringing about
Over half the world.
Father
Horror that your Prince foundJohn may you find
Ever and again
Dying before the house in such torture of mind
As you need not feign.
While they clap and stamp at your nightly fate
They shall never know
The curse that drags at youuntil Hell's gate.
You have heard me. Go!
SONG: ONE HARD LOOK.
Small gnats that fly
In hot July
And lodge in sleeping ears
Can rouse therein
A trumpet's din
With Day-of-Judgement fears.
Small mice at night
Can wake more fright
Than lions at midday.
An urchin small
Torments us all
Who tread his prickly way.
A straw will crack
The camel's back
To die we need but sip
So little sand
As fills the hand
Can stop a steaming ship.
One smile relieves
A heart that grieves
Though deadly sad it be
And one hard look
Can close the book
That lovers love to see--
TRUE JOHNNY.
Johnnysweetheartcan you be true
To all those famous vows you've made
Will you love me as I love you
Until we both in earth are laid?
Or shall the old wives nod and say
His love was only for a day:
The mood goes by
His fancies fly
And Mary's left to sigh.
Maryalasyou've hit the truth
And I with grief can but admit
Hot-blooded haste controls my youth
My idle fancies veer and flit
From flower to flowerfrom tree to tree
And when the moment catches me
Ohlove goes by
Away I fly
And leave my girl to sigh.
Could you but now foretell the day
Johnnywhen this sad thing must be
When light and gay you'll turn away
And laugh and break the heart in me?
For like a nut for true love's sake
My empty heart shall crack and break
When fancies fly
And love goes by
And Mary's left to die.
When the sun turns against the clock
When Avon waters upward flow
When eggs are laid by barn-door cock
When dusty hens do strut and crow
When up is downwhen left is right
Ohthen I'll break the troth I plight
With careless eye
Away I'll fly
And Mary here shall die.
THE VOICE OF BEAUTY DROWNED.
Cry from the thicket my heart's bird!
The other birds woke all around
Rising with toot and howl they stirred
Their plumagebroke the trembling sound
They craned their necksthey fluttered wings
"While we are silent no one sings
And while we sing you hush your throat
Or tune your melody to our note."
Cry from the thicket my heart's bird!
The screams and hootings rose again:
They gaped with raucous beaksthey whirred
Their noisy plumage; small but plain
The lonely hidden singer made
A well of grief within the glade.
"Whistsilly foolbe off" they shout
"Or we'll come pluck your feathers out."
Cry from the thicket my heart's bird!
Slight and small the lovely cry
Came trickling downbut no one heard.
Parrot and cuckoocrowmagpie
Jarred horrid notes and the jangling jay
Ripped the fine threads of song away
For why should peeping chick aspire
To challenge their loud woodland choir?
Cried it so sweet that unseen bird?
Lovelier could no music be
Clearer than watersoft as curd
Fresh as the blossomed cherry tree.
How sang the others all around?
Piercing and harsha maddening sound
With Pretty Polltuwit-tu-woo
Peewitcaw cawcuckoo-cuckoo.
THE GOD CALLED POETRY.
Now I begin to know at last
These nights when I sit down to rhyme
The form and measure of that vast
God we call Poetryhe who stoops
And leaps me through his paper hoops
A little higher every time.
Tempts me to think I'll grow a proper
Singing cricket or grass-hopper
Making prodigious jumps in air
While shaken crowds about me stare
Aghastand I singgrowing bolder
To fly up on my master's shoulder
Rustling the thick strands of his hair.
He is older than the seas
Older than the plains and hills
And older than the light that spills
From the sun's hot wheel on these.
He wakes the gale that tears your trees
He sings to you from window sills.
At you he roarsor he will coo
He shouts and screams when hell is hot
Riding on the shell and shot.
He smites you downhe succours you
And where you seek himhe is not.
To-day I see he has two heads
Like Janus--calmbenignantthis;
Thatgrim and scowling: his beard spreads
From chin to chin" this god has power
Immeasurable at every hour:
He first taught lovers how to kiss
He brings down sunshine after shower
Thunder and hate are his also
He is YES and he is NO.
The black beard spoke and said to me
"Human frailty though you be
Yet shout and crack your whipbe harsh!
They'll obey you in the end:
Hill and fieldriver and marsh
Shall obey youhop and skip
At the terrour of your whip
To your gales of anger bend."
The pale beard spoke and said in turn
"True: a prize goes to the stern
But sing and laugh and easily run
Through the wide airs of my plain
Bathe in my watersdrink my sun
And draw my creatures with soft song;
They shall follow you along
Graciously with no doubt or pain."
Then speaking from his double head
The glorious fearful monster said
"I am YES and I am NO
Black as pitch and white as snow
Love mehate mereconcile
Hate with loveperfect with vile
So equal justice shall be done
And life shared between moon and sun.
Nature for you shall curse or smile:
A poet you shall bemy son."
ROCKY ACRES.
This is a wild landcountry of my choice
With harsh craggy mountainmoor ample and bare.
Seldom in these acres is heard any voice
But voice of cold water that runs here and there
Through rocks and lank heather growing without care.
No mice in the heath run nor no birds cry
For fear of the dark speck that floats in the sky.
He soars and he hovers rocking on his wings
He scans his wide parish with a sharp eye
He catches the trembling of small hidden things
He tears them in piecesdropping from the sky:
Tenderness and pity the land will deny
Where life is but nourished from water and rock
A hardy adventurefull of fear and shock.
Time has never journeyed to this lost land
Crakeberries and heather bloom out of date
The rocks jutthe streams flow singing on either hand
Careless if the season be early or late.
The skies wander overheadnow bluenow slate:
Winter would be known by his cold cutting snow
If June did not borrow his armour also.
Yet this is my country be loved by me best
The first land that rose from Chaos and the Flood
Nursing no fat valleys for comfort and rest
Trampled by no hard hoovesstained with no blood.
Bold immortal country whose hill tops have stood
Strongholds for the proud gods when on earth they go
Terror for fat burghers in far plains below.
ADVICE TO LOVERS.
I knew an old man at a Fair
Who made it his twice-yearly task
To clamber on a cider cask
And cry to all the yokels there:--
"Lovers to-day and for all time
Preserve the meaning of my rhyme:
Love is not kindly nor yet grim
But does to you as you to him.
"Whistleand Love will come to you
Hissand he fades without a word
Do wrongand he great wrong will do
Speakhe retells what he has heard.
"Then all you lovers have good heed
Vex not young Love in word or deed:
Love never leaves an unpaid debt
He will not pardon nor forget."
The old man's voice was sweet yet loud
And this shows what a man was he
He'd scatter apples to the crowd
And give great draughts of ciderfree.
NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S FALL.
Frowning over the riddle that Daniel told
Down through the mist hung gardenbelow a feeble sun
The King of Persia walked: ohthe chilling cold!
His mind was webbed with a grey shroud vapour-spun.
Here for the pride of his soaring eagle heart
Here for his great hand searching the skies for food
Here for his courtship of Heaven's high stars he shall smart
Nebuchadnezzar shall fallcrawlbe subdued.
Hot sun struck through the vapourleaf strewn mould
Breathed sweet decay: old Earth called for her child.
Mist drew off from his mindSun scattered gold
Warmth came and earthy motives fresh and wild.
Down on his knees he sinksthe stiff-necked King
Stoops and kneels and grovelschin to the mud.
Out from his changed heart flutter on startled wing
The fancy birds of his PrideHonourKinglihood.
He crawlshe gruntshe is beast-likefrogs and snails
His dietand grassand water with hand for cup.
He herds with brutes that have hooves and horns and tails
He roars in his angerhe scratcheshe looks not up.
GIVE US RAIN.
"Give us RainRain" said the bean and the pea
"Not so much Sun
Not so much Sun."
But the Sun smiles bravely and encouragingly
And no rain falls and no waters run.
"Give us PeacePeace" said the peoples oppressed
"Not so many Flags
Not so many Flags."
But the Flags fly and the Drums beatdenying rest
And the children starvethey shiver in rags.
ALLIE.
Alliecall the birds in
The birds from the sky.
Allie callsAllie sings
Down they all fly.
First there came
Two white doves
Then a sparrow from his nest
Then a clucking bantam hen
Then a robin red-breast.
Alliecall the beasts in
The beastsevery one.
Allie callsAllie sings
In they all run.
First there came
Two black lambs
Then a grunting Berkshire sow
Then a dog without a tail
Then a red and white cow.
Alliecall the fish up
The fish from the stream.
Allie callsAllie sings
Up they all swim.
First there came
Two gold fish
A minnow and a miller's thumb
Then a pair of loving trout
Then the twisted eels come.
Alliecall the children
Children from the green.
Allie callsAllie sings
Soon they run in.
First there came
Tom and Madge
Kate and I who'll not forget
How we played by the water's edge
Till the April sun set.
LOVING HENRY.
HenryHenrydo you love me?
Do I love youMary?
Ohcan you mean to liken me
To the aspen tree.
Whose leaves do shake and vary
From white to green
And back again
Shifting and contrary?
HenryHenrydo you love me
Do you love me truly?
OhMarymust I say again
My love's a pain
A torment most unruly?
It tosses me
Like a ship at sea
When the storm rages fully.
HenryHenrywhy do you love me?
Marydearhave pity!
I swearof all the girls there are
Both near and far
In country or in city
There's none like you
So kindso true
So wiseso braveso pretty.
BRITTLE BONES.
Though I am an old man
With my bones very brittle
Though I am a poor old man
Worth very little
Yet I suck at my long pipe
At peace in the sun
I do not fret nor much regret
That my work is done.
If I were a young man
With my bones full of marrow
Ohif I were a bold young man
Straight as an arrow
And if I had the same years
To live once again
I would not change their simple range
Of laughter and pain.
If I were a young man
And young was my Lily
A smart girla bold young man
Both of us silly.
And though from time before I knew
She'd stab me with pain
Though well I knew she'd not be true
I'd love her again.
If I were a young man
With a briskhealthy body
Ohif I were a bold young man
With love of rum toddy
Though I knew that I was spiting
My old age with pain
My happy lip would touch and sip
Again and again.
If I were a young man
With my bones full of marrow
Ohif I were a bold young man
Straight as an arrow
I'd store up no virtue
For Heaven's distant plain
I'd live at ease as I did please
And sin once again.
APPLES AND WATER.
Dust in a cloudblinding weather
Drums that rattle and roar!
A mother and daughter stood together
Beside their cottage door.
"Motherthe heavens are bright like brass
The dust is shaken high
With labouring breath the soldiers pass
Their lips are cracked and dry."
"MotherI'll throw them apples down
I'll bring them pails of water."
The mother turned with an angry frown
Holding back her daughter.
"But motherseethey faint with thirst
They march away to die"
"Ahsweethad I but known at first
Their throats are always dry."
"There is no water can supply them
In western streams that flow
There is no fruit can satisfy them
On orchard trees that grow."
"Once in my youth I gavepoor fool
A soldier apples and water
So may I die before you cool
Your father's drouthmy daughter."
MANTICOR IN ARABIA.
(The manticors of the montaines
Mighte feed them on thy braines.--Skelton.)
Thick and scented daisies spread
Where with surface dull like lead
Arabian pools of slime invite
Manticors down from neighbouring height
To dip headsto cool fiery blood
In oozy depths of sucking mud.
Sing then of ringstraked manticor
Man-visaged tiger who of yore
Held whole Arabian waste in fee
With raging pride from sea to sea
That every lesser tribe would fly
Those armed feetthat hooded eye;
Till preying on himself at last
Manticor dwindledsankwas passed
By gryphon flocks he did disdain.
Aywyverns and rude dragons reign
In ancient keep of manticor
Agreed old foe can rise no more.
Only here from lakes of slime
Drinks manticor and bides due time:
Six times Fowl Phoenix in yon tree
Must mount his pyre and burn and be
Renewed againtill in such hour
As seventh Phoenix flames to power
And lifts young feathersovernice
From scented pool of steamy spice
Shall manticor his sway restore
And rule Arabian plains once more.
OUTLAWS.
Owls: they whinney down the night
Bats go zigzag by.
Ambushed in shadow out of sight
The outlaws lie.
Old godsshrunk to shadowsthere
In the wet woods they lurk
Greedy of human stuff to snare
In webs of murk.
Look upelse your eye must drown
In a moving sea of black
Between the tree-topsupside down
Goes the sky-track.
Look upelse your feet will stray
Towards that dim ambuscade
Where spider-like they catch their prey
In nets of shade.
For though creeds whirl away in dust
Faith fails and men forget
These aged gods of fright and lust
Cling to life yet.
Old gods almost deadmalign
Starved of their ancient dues
Incense and fruitfireblood and wine
And an unclean muse.
Banished to woods and a sickly moon
Shrunk to mere bogey things
Who spoke with thunder once at noon
To prostrate kings.
With thunder from an open sky
To peasanttyrantpriest
Bowing in fear with a dazzled eye
Towards the East.
Proud godshumbledsunk so low
Living with ghosts and ghouls
And ghosts of ghosts and last year's snow
And dead toadstools.
BALOO LOO FOR JENNY.
Sing baloo loo for Jenny
And where is she gone?
Away to spy her mother's land
Riding all alone.
To the rich towns of Scotland
The woods and the streams
High upon a Spanish horse
Saddled for her dreams.
By Oxford and by Chester
To Berwick-on-the-Tweed
Then once across the borderland
She shall find no need.
A loaf for her at Stirling
A scone at Carlisle
Honeyed cakes at Edinbro'--
That shall make her smile.
At Aberdeen clear cider
Mead for her at Nairn
A cup of wine at John o' Groats--
That shall please my bairn.
Sing baloo loo for Jenny
Mother will be fain
To see her little truant child
Riding home again.
HAWK AND BUCKLE.
Where is the landlord of old Hawk and Buckle
And what of Master Straddler this hot summer weather?
He's along in the tap-room with broad cheeks a-chuckle
And ten bold companions all drinking together.
Where is the daughter of old Hawk and Buckle
And what of Mistress Jenny this hot summer weather?
She sits in the parlour with smell of honeysuckle
Trimming her bonnet with red ostrich feather.
Where is the ostler of old Hawk and Buckle
And what of Willy Jakeman this hot summer weather?
He is rubbing his eyes with a slow and lazy knuckle
As he wakes from his nap on a bank of fresh heather.
Where is the page boy of old Hawk and Buckle
And what of our young Charlie this hot summer weather?
He is bobbing for tiddlers in a little trickle-truckle
With his line and his hook and his breeches of leather.
Where is the grey goat of old Hawk and Buckle
And what of pretty Nanny this hot summer weather?
She stays not contented with little or with muckle
Straining for daisies at the end of her tether.
For this is our motto at old Hawk and Buckle
We cling to it close and we sing all together
"Every man for himself at our old Hawk and Buckle
And devil take the hindmost this hot summer weather."
THE "ALICE JEAN".
One moonlit night a ship drove in
A ghost ship from the west
Drifting with bare mast and lone tiller
Like a mermaid drest
In long green weed and barnacles:
She beached and came to rest.
All the watchers of the coast
Flocked to view the sight
Men and women streaming down
Through the summer night
Found her standing tall and ragged
Beached in the moonlight.
Then one old woman looked and wept
"The 'Alice Jean'? But no!
The ship that took my Dick from me
Sixty years ago
Drifted back from the utmost west
With the ocean's flow?
"Caught and caged in the weedy pool
Beyond the western brink
Where crewless vessels lie and rot
in waters black as ink.
Torn out again by a sudden storm
Is it the 'Jean'you think?"
A hundred women stared agape
The menfolk nudged and laughed
But none could find a likelier story
For the strange craft.
With fear and death and desolation
Rigged fore and aft.
The blind ship came forgotten home
To all but one of these
Of whom none dared to climb aboard her:
And by and by the breeze
Sprang to a storm and the "Alice Jean"
Foundered in frothy seas.
THE CUPBOARD.
Mother
What's in that cupboardMary?
Mary
Which cupboardmother dear?
Mother
The cupboard of red mahogany
With handles shining clear.
Mary
That cupboarddearest mother
With shining crystal handles?
There's nought inside but rags and jags
And yellow tallow candles.
Mother
What's in that cupboardMary?
Mary
Which cupboardmother mine?
Mother
That cupboard stands in your sunny chamber
The silver corners shine.
Mary
There's nothing there insidemother
But wool and thread and flax
And bits of faded silk and velvet
And candles of white wax.
Mother
What's in that cupboardMary?
And this time tell me true.
Mary
White clothes for an unborn babymother
But what's the truth to you?
THE BEACON.
The silent shepherdess
She of my vows
Here with me exchanging love
Under dim boughs.
Shines on our mysteries
A sudden spark--
"Dout the candleglow-worm
Let all be dark.
"The birds have sung their last notes
The Sun's to bed
Glow-wormdout your candle."
The glow-worm said:
"I also am a lover;
The lamp I display
Is beacon for my true love
Wandering astray.
"Through the thick bushes
And the grass comes she
With a heartload of longing
And love for me.
"Sirenjoy your fancy
But spare me harm
A lover is a lover
Though but a worm."
POT AND KETTLE.
Come close to medear Anniewhile I bind a lover's knot.
A tale of burning love between a kettle and a pot.
The pot was stalwart iron and the kettle trusty tin
And though their sides were black with smoke they bubbled love within.
Forget that kettleJamieand that pot of boiling broth
I know a dismal story of a candle and a moth.
For while your pot is boiling and while your kettle sings
My moth makes love to candle flame and burns away his wings.
Your mothI envyAnniethat died by candle flame
But here are two more loversunto no damage came.
There was a cuckoo loved a clock and found her always true.
For every hour they told their hearts"Ring! ting! Cuckoo!Cuckoo!"
As the pot boiled for the kettleas the kettle for the pot
So boils my love within me till my breast is glowing hot.
As the moth died for the candleso could I die for you.
And my fond heart beats time with yours and cries"Cuckoo!Cuckoo!"
GHOST RADDLED.
"Comesurly fellowcome! A song!"
Whatmadmen? Sing to you?
Choose from the clouded tales of wrong
And terror I bring to you.
Of a night so torn with cries
Honest men sleeping
Start awake with glaring eyes
Bone-chilledflesh creeping.
Of spirits in the web hung room
Up above the stable
Groansknockings in the gloom
The dancing table.
Of demons in the dry well
That cheep and mutter
Clanging of an unseen bell
Blood choking the gutter.
Of lust frightfulpast belief
Lurking unforgotten
Unrestrainable endless grief
From breasts long rotten.
A song? What laughter or what song
Can this house remember?
Do flowers and butterflies belong
To a blind December?
NEGLECTFUL EDWARD.
Nancy
"Edward back from the Indian Sea
What have you brought for Nancy?"
Edward
"A rope of pearls and a gold earring
And a bird of the East that will not sing.
A carven tootha box with a key--"
Nancy
"God be praised you are back" says she
"Have you nothing more for your Nancy?"
Edward
"Long as I sailed the Indian Sea
I gathered all for your fancy:
Toys and silk and jewels I bring
And a bird of the East that will not sing:
What more can you wantdear girlfrom me?"
Nancy
"God be praised you are back" said she
"Have you nothing better for Nancy?"
Edward
"Safe and home from the Indian Sea
And nothing to take your fancy?"
Nancy
"You can keep your pearls and your gold earring
And your bird of the East that will not sing
ButNedhave you nothing more for me
Than heathenish gew-gaw toys?" says she
"Have you nothing better for Nancy?"
THE WELL-DRESSED CHILDREN.
Here's flowery taffeta for Mary's new gown:
Here's black velvetall the ragefor Dick's birthday coat.
Pearly buttons for youMaryall the way down
Lace rufflesDickfor you; you'll be a man of note.
Maryhere I've bought you a green gingham shade
And a silk purse brocaded with roses gold and blue
You'll learn to hold them proudly like colours on parade.
No banker's wife in all the town half so grand as you.
I've bought for young Diccon a long walking-stick
Yellow gloveswell tannedat Woodstock village made.
I'll teach you to flourish 'em and show your name is DICK
Strutting by your sister's side with the same parade.
On Sunday to church you goeach with a book of prayer:
Then up the street and down the aisleseverywhere you'll see
Of all the honours paid aroundhow small is Virtue's share.
How large the share of Vulgar Pride in peacock finery.
THUNDER AT NIGHT.
Restless and hot two children lay
Plagued with uneasy dreams
Each wandered lonely through false day
A twilight torn with screams.
True to the bed-time storyBen
Pursued his wounded bear
Ann dreamed of chattering monkey men
Of snakes twined in her hair...
Now high aloft above the town
The thick clouds gather and break
A flasha roarand rain drives down:
Aghast the young things wake.
Trembling for what their terror was
Surprised by instant doom
With lightning in the looking glass
Thunder that rocks the room.
The monkeys' paws patter again
Snakes hiss and flash their eyes:
The bear roars out in hideous pain:
Ann prays: her brother cries.
They cannot guesscould not be told
How soon comes careless day
With birds and dandelion gold
Wet grasscool scents of May.
TO E.M.--A BALLAD OF NURSERY RHYME.
Strawberries that in gardens grow
Are plump and juicy fine
But sweeter far as wise men know
Spring from the woodland vine.
No need for bowl or silver spoon
Sugar or spice or cream
Has the wild berry plucked in June
Beside the trickling stream.
One such to melt at the tongue's root
Confounding taste with scent
Beats a full peck of garden fruit:
Which points my argument.
May sudden justice overtake
And snap the froward pen
That old and palsied poets shake
Against the minds of men.
Blasphemers trusting to hold caught
In far-flung webs of ink
The utmost ends of human thought
Till nothing's left to think.
But may the gift of heavenly peace
And glory for all time
Keep the boy Tom who tending geese
First made the nursery rhyme.
By the brookside one August day
Using the sun for clock
Tom whiled the languid hours away
Beside his scattering flock.
Carving with a sharp pointed stone
On a broad slab of slate
The famous lives of Jumping Joan
Dan Fox and Greedy Kate.
Rhyming of wolves and bears and birds
SpainScotlandBabylon
That sister Kate might learn the words
To tell to toddling John.
But Kate who could not stay content
To learn her lesson pat
New beauty to the rough lines lent
By changing this or that.
And she herself set fresh things down
In corners of her slate
Of lambs and lanes and London town.
God's blessing fall on Kate!
The baby loved the simple sound
With jolly glee he shook
And soon the lines grew smooth and round
Like pebbles in Tom's brook.
From mouth to mouth told and retold
By children sprawled at ease
Before the fire in winter's cold
in Junebeneath tall trees.
Till though long lost are stone and slate
Though the brook no more runs
And dead long time are TomJohnKate
Their sons and their sons' sons.
Yet as when Time with stealthy tread
Lays the rich garden waste
The woodland berry ripe and red
Fails not in scent or taste
So these same rhymes shall still be told
To children yet unborn
While false philosophy growing old
Fades and is killed by scorn.
JANE.
As Jane walked out below the hill
She saw an old man standing still
His eyes in tranced sorrow bound
On the broad stretch of barren ground.
His limbs were knarled like aged trees
His thin beard wrapt about his knees
His visage broad and parchment white
Aglint with pale reflected light.
He seemed a creature fall'n afar
From some dim planet or faint star.
Jane scanned him very closeand soon
Cried"'Tis the old man from the moon."
He raised his voicea grating creak
But only to himself would speak.
Groaning with tears in piteous pain
"O! O! would I were home again."
Then Jane ran offquick as she could
To cheer his heart with drink and food.
But ahtoo late came ale and bread
She found the poor soul stretched stone-dead.
And a new moon rode overhead.
VAIN AND CARELESS.
Ladylovely lady
Careless and gay!
Once when a beggar called
She gave her child away.
The beggar took the baby
Wrapped it in a shawl
"Bring her back" the lady said
"Next time you call."
Hard by lived a vain man
So vain and so proud
He walked on stilts
To be seen by the crowd.
Up above the chimney pots
Tall as a mast
And all the people ran about
Shouting till he passed.
"A splendid match surely"
Neighbours saw it plain
"Although she is so careless
Although he is so vain."
But the lady played bobcherry
Did not see or care
As the vain man went by her
Aloft in the air.
This gentle-born couple
Lived and died apart.
Water will not mix with oil
Nor vain with careless heart.
NINE O'CLOCK.
I.
Nine of the clockoh!
Wake my lazy head!
Your shoes of red morocco
Your silk bed-gown:
Rouserousespeck-eyed Mary
In your high bed!
A yawna smilesleepy-starey
Mary climbs down.
"Good-morning to my brothers
Good-day to the Sun
Halloohalloo to the lily-white sheep
That up the mountain run."
II.
Good-night to the meadowfarewell to the nine o'clock Sun
"He loves me notloves mehe loves me not" (O jealous one!)
"He loves mehe loves me notloves me"--O soft nights of June
A bird sang for love on the cherry-bough: up swam the Moon.
THE PICTURE BOOK.
When I was not quite five years old
I first saw the blue picture book
And Fraulein Spitzenburger told
Stories that sent me hot and cold;
I loathed ityet I had to look:
It was a German book.
I smiled at firstfor she'd begun
With a back-garden broad and green
And rabbits nibbling there: page one
Turned; and the gardener fired his gun
From the low hedge: he lay unseen
Behind: ohit was mean!
They're hurtthey can't escapeand so
He stuffs them head-down in a sack
Not quite deadwriggling in a row
And Fraulein laughed"Hoho! Hoho!"
And gave my middle a hard smack
I wish that I'd hit back.
Then when I cried she laughed again;
On the next page was a dead boy
Murdered by robbers in a lane;
His clothes were red with a big stain
Of bloodhe held a broken toy
The poorpoor little boy!
I had to look: there was a town
Burning where every one got caught
Then a fish pulled a nigger down
Into the lake and made him drown
And a man killed his friend; they fought
For moneyFraulein thought.
Old Fraulein laugheda horrid noise.
"Hoho!" Then she explained it all
How robbers kill the little boys
And torture them and break their toys.
Robbers are always big and tall:
I cried: I was so small.
How a man often kills his wife
How every one dies in the end
By fireor water or a knife.
If you're not careful in this life
Even if you can trust your friend
You won't have long to spend.
I hated it--old Fraulein picked
Her teethslowly explaining it.
I had to listenFraulein licked
Her fingers several times and flicked
The pages over; in a fit
Of rage I spat at it...
And lying in my bed that night
Hungrytired out with sobsI found
A stretch of barren years in sight
Where right is wrongbut strength is right
Where weak things must creep underground
And I could not sleep sound.
THE PROMISED LULLABY.
Can I find True-Love a gift
In this dark hour to restore her
When body's vessel breaks adrift
When hope and beauty fade before her?
But in this plight I cannot think
Of song or musicthat would grieve her
Or toys or meat or snow-cooled drink;
Not this way can her sadness leave her.
She lies and frets in childish fever
All I can do is but to cry
"SleepsleepTrue-Love and lullaby!"
Lullabyand sleep again.
Two bright eyes through the window stare
A nose is flattened on the pane
And infant fingers fumble there.
"Not yetnot yetyou lovely thing
But count and come nine weeks from now
When winter's tail has lost the sting
When buds come striking through the bough
Then here's True-Love will show you how
Her name she wonwill hush your cry
With "Sleepmy baby! Lullaby!"
RETROSPECT
HAUNTED.
Gulp down your wineold friends of mine
Roar through the darknessstamp and sing
And lay ghost hands on everything
But leave the noonday's warm sunshine
To living lads for mirth and wine.
I met you suddenly down the street
Strangers assume your phantom faces
You grin at me from daylight places
Deadlong deadI'm ashamed to greet
Dead men down the morning street.
RETROSPECT: THE JESTS OF THE CLOCK.
He had met hours of the clock he never guessed before--
Dumbdraggingmirthless hours confused with dreams and fear
Bone-chillinghungry hours when the gods sleep and snore
Bequeathing earth and heaven to ghostsand will not hear
And will not hear man groan chained to the sodden ground
Rotting alive; in feather beds they slumbered sound.
When noisome smells of day were sicklied by cold night
When sentries froze and muttered; when beyond the wire
Blank shadows crawled and tumbledshakingtricking the sight
When impotent hatred of Life stifled desire
Then soared the sudden rocketbroke in blanching showers.
O lagging watch! O dawn! O hope-forsaken hours!
How often with numbed heartstale lipsventing his rage
He swore he'd be a dolta traitora damned fool
Ifwhen the guns stoppedever again from youth to age
He broke the early-risingearly-sleeping rule.
Nothough more bestial enemies roused a fouler war
Never again would he bear thisno never more!
"Rise with the cheerful sungo to bed with the same
Work in your field or kailyard all the shining day
But" he said"never more in quest of wealthhonourfame
Search the small hours of night before the East goes grey.
A healthy minda honest hearta wise man leaves
Those ugly impious times to ghostsdevilssoldiersthieves."
Poor foolknowing too well deep in his heart
That he'll be ready again if urgent orders come
To quit his rye and cabbageskiss his wife and part
At the first sullen rapping of the awakened drum
Ready once more to sweat with fear and brace for the shock
To greet beneath a falling flare the jests of the clock.
HERE THEY LIE.
Here they lie who once learned here
All that is taught of hurt or fear;
Deadbut by free will they died:
They were true menthey had pride.
TOM TAYLOR.
On pay-day nightsneck-full with beer
Old soldiers stumbling homeward here
Homeward (still dazzled by the spark
Love kindled in some alley dark)
Young soldiers mooning in slow thought
Start suddenlyturn aboutare caught
By a dancing soundmerry as a grig
Tom Taylor's piccolo playing jig.
Never was blown from human cheeks
Music like thisthat calls and speaks
Till sots and lovers from one string
Dangle and dance in the same ring.
Tomof your piping I've heard said
And seen--that you can rouse the dead
Dead-drunken men awash who lie
In stinking gutters hear your cry
I've seen them twitchdraw breathgropesigh
Heave upswaystand; grotesquely then
You set them dancingthese dead men.
They stamp and prance with sobbing breath
Victims of wine or love or death
In ragged time they jumpthey shake
Their headssweating to overtake
The impetuous tune flying ahead.
They flounder afterwith legs of lead.
Nowsuddenly as it startedplay
Stopsthe short echo dies away
The corpses dropa senseless heap
The drunk men gaze about like sheep.
Grinningthe lovers sigh and stare
Up at the broad moon hanging there
While Tomfive fingers to his nose
Skips off...And the last bugle blows.
COUNTRY AT WAR.
And what of home--how goes itboys
While we die here in stench and noise?
"The hill stands up and hedges wind
Over the crest and drop behind;
Here swallows dip and wild things go
On peaceful errands to and fro
Across the sloping meadow floor
And make no guess at blasting war.
In woods that fledge the round hill-shoulder
Leaves shoot and openfall and moulder
And shoot again. Meadows yet show
Alternate white of drifted snow
And daisies. Children play at shop
Warm dayson the flat boulder-top
With wildflower coinageand the wares
Are bits of glass and unripe pears.
Crows perch upon the backs of sheep
The wheat goes yellow: women reap
Autumn winds ruffle brook and pond
Flutter the hedge and fly beyond.
So the first things of nature run
And stand not still for any one
Contemptuous of the distant cry
Wherewith you harrow earth and sky.
And high French cloudspraying to be
Backback in peace beyond the sea
Where nature with accustomed round
Sweeps and garnishes the ground
With kindly beautywarm or cold--
Alternate seasons never old:
Heathenhow furiously you rage
Cursing this blood and brimstone age
How furiously against your will
You kill and kill againand kill:
All thought of peace behind you cast
Till like small boys with fear aghast
Each cries for God to understand
'I could not help itit was my hand.'"
SOSPAN FACH.
(The Little Saucepan)
Four collier lads from Ebbw Vale
Took shelter from a shower of hail
And there beneath a spreading tree
Attuned their mouths to harmony.
With smiling joy on every face
Two warbled tenortwo sang bass
And while the leaves above them hissed with
Rough hailthey started "Aberystwyth."
Old Parry's hymntriumphantrich
They changed through with even pitch
Till at the end of their grand noise
I called: "Give us the 'Sospan' boys!"
Who knows a tune so softso strong
So pitiful as that "Saucepan" song
For exiled hopedespaired desire
Of lost souls for their cottage fire?
Then low at first with gathering sound
Rose their four voicessmooth and round
Till back went Time: once more I stood
With Fusiliers in Mametz Wood.
Fierce burned the sunyet cheeks were pale
For ice hail they had leaden hail;
In that fine forestgreen and big
There stayed unbroken not one twig.
They sangthey sworethey plunged in haste
Stumbling and shouting through the waste;
The little "Saucepan" flamed on high
Emblem of hope and ease gone by.
Rough pit-boys from the coaly South
They sangeven in the cannon's mouth;
Like Sunday's chapelMonday's inn
The death-trap sounded with their din.
***
The storm blows overSun comes out
The choir breaks up with jest and shout
With what relief I watch them part--
Another note would break my heart!
THE LEVELLER.
Near Martinpuisch that night of hell
Two men were struck by the same shell
Together tumbling in one heap
Senseless and limp like slaughtered sheep.
One was a pale eighteen-year-old
Girlish and thin and not too bold
Pressed for the war ten years too soon
The shame and pity of his platoon.
The other came from far-off lands
With bristling chin and whiskered hands
He had known death and hell before
In Mexico and Ecuador.
Yet in his death this cut-throat wild
Groaned "Mother! Mother!" like a child
While that poor innocent in man's clothes
Died cursing God with brutal oaths.
Old Sergeant Smithkindest of men
Wrote out two copies there and then
Of his accustomed funeral speech
To cheer the womenfolk of each.
HATE NOTFEAR NOT.
Kill if you mustbut never hate:
Man is but grass and hate is blight
The sun will scorch you soon or late
Die wholesome thensince you must fight.
Hate is a fearand fear is rot
That cankers root and fruit alike
Fight cleanly thenhate notfear not
Strike with no madness when you strike.
Fever and fear distract the world
But calm be you though madmen shout
Through blazing fires of battle hurled
Hate notstrikefear notstare Death out!
A RHYME OF FRIENDS.
(In a Style Skeltonical)
Listen now this time
Shortly to my rhyme
That herewith starts
About certain kind hearts
In those stricken parts
That lie behind Calais
Old crones and aged men
And young children.
About the Picardais
Who earned my thousand thanks
Dwellers by the banks
Of mournful Somme
(God keep me therefrom
Until War ends)--
Thesethenare my friends:
Madame Averlant Lune
From the town of Bethune;
Good Professeur la Brune
From that town also.
He played the piccolo
And left his locks to grow.
Dear Madame Hojdes
Sempstress of Saint Fe.
With Jules and Susette
And Antoinette.
Her childrenmy sweethearts
For whom I made darts
Of paper to throw
In their mimic show
"La guerre aux tranchees."
That was a pretty play.
There was old Jacques Caron
Of the hamlet Mailleton.
He let me look
At his household book
"Comment vivre cent ans."
What cares I took
To obey this wise book
Iwho feared each hour
Lest Death's cruel power
On the poppied plain
Might make cares vain!
By Noeus-les-mines
Lived old Adelphine
Withered and clean
She nodded and smiled
And used me like a child.
How that old trot beguiled
My leisure with her chatter
Gave me a china platter
Painted with Cherubim
And mottoes on the rim.
But when instead of thanks
I gave her francs
How her pride was hurt!
She counted francs as dirt
(God knowsshe was not rich)
She called the Kaiser bitch
She spat on the floor
Cursing this Prussian war
That she had known before
Forty years past and more.
There was also "Tomi"
With looks sweet and free
Who called me cher ami.
This orphan's age was nine
His folk were in their graves
Else they were slaves
Behind the German line
To terror and rapine--
Olittle friends of mine
How kind and brave you were
You smoothed away care
When life was hard to bear.
And youold women and men
Who gave me billets then
How patient and great-hearted!
Strangers though we started
Yet friends we ever parted.
God bless you all: now ends
This homage to my friends.
A FIRST REVIEW.
LoveFear and Hate and Childish Toys
Are here discreetly blent;
Admireyou ladiesreadyou boys
My Country Sentiment.
But Kate says"Cut that anger and fear
True love's the stuff we need!
With laughing children and the running deer
That makes a book indeed."
Then Toma hard and bloody chap
Though much beloved by me
"Roberthave done with nursery pap
Write like a man" says he.
Hate and Fear are not wanted here
Nor Toys nor Country Lovers
Everything they took from my new poem book
But the flyleaf and the covers.