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Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us,
And black are the waters that sparkled so green.
The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us
At rest in the hollows that rustle between....

(For Alden March)



With drooping sail and pennant
That never a wind may reach,
They float in sunless waters
Beside a sunless beach.
Their mighty masts and funnels...

& R. Fenton Gower


He's acruisin' in a pearler with a dirty nigger crew,
Abuyin' pearls and copra for a stingy Spanish Jew,
And his face is tann'd like leather 'neath a blazin' tropic Sun,...

AN INDIAN TRADITION; VERSIFIED FROM SCHOOLCRAFT


It was a day of festive-mirth,
And bright the Indian wigwams shone,
For 'twas a chieftain's bridal-day,
And gladness dwelt in every tone;...

Shy bird of the silver arrows of song,
That cleave our Northern air so clear,
Thy notes prolong, prolong,
I listen, I hear:
"I - love - dear - Canada,
Canada, Canada."
...

Last night I dreamed I saw you lying dead,
And by your sheeted form stood all alone:
Frail as a flow'r you lay upon your bed,
And on your still face, through the casement, shone...

Why does she turn in that shy soft way
Whenever she stirs the fire,
And kiss to the chimney-corner wall,
As if entranced to admire
Its whitewashed bareness more than the sight...

The moon comes every night to peep
Through the window where I lie,
And I pretend to be asleep;
But I watch the moon as it goes by,
And it never makes a sound.
...

When Human Folk at Table eat,
A Kitten must not mew for meat,
Or jump to grab it from the Dish,
(Unless it happens to be fish).

The Text is from Motherwell's MS. He included it in the Appendix to his Minstrelsy. No other collector or editor notices the ballad--'if it ever were one,' as Child remarks.
...

There's a wind comes doon frae the braes when the licht is spreadin'
Chilly an' grey,
An' the auld cock craws at the yett o' the muirland steadin'
Cryin' on day;...

By Mellstock Lodge and Avenue
Towards her door I went,
And sunset on her window-panes
Reflected our intent.

The creeper on the gable nigh
Was fired to more than red...

SAPPHICs.

Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell,
Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked,
When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey
Weary and way-sore.
...

One widow at a grave will sob
A little while, and weep, and sigh!
If two should meet on such a job,
They'll have a gossip by and by.
If three should come together - why,
Three widows are good company!...

Pittie olde age, within whose silver haires
Honour and reverence evermore have rain'd.
- MARLOWE'S TAMBURLAINE.


...

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red!)...

For a season there must be pain
For a little, little space
I shall lose the sight of her face,
Take back the old life again
While She is at rest in her place.

For a season this pain must endure,...

Age yellows my leaf with a daily decline,
And nature turns sick with decay;
Short is the thread on life's spool that is mine,
And few are my wishes to stay:
The bud, that has seen but the sun of an hour,...

I

How beautiful when up a lofty height
Honour ascends among the humblest poor,
And feeling sinks as deep! See there the door
Of One, a Widow, left beneath a weight...

Vauvenargues says that in public gardens there are alleys haunted principally by thwarted ambition, by unfortunate inventors, by aborted glories and broken hearts, and by all those tumultuous and contracted souls in whom the la...