Yet, stranger! here, from year to year, She keeps her shadowy kine; Oh, Keith of Ravelston, The sorrows of thy line! Step out three steps, where Andrew stood Why blanch thy cheeks for fear? 'Tis not the burn I hear! She makes her immemorial moan, AMERICA (Poetical Works, 1875) Nor force nor fraud shall sunder us! O ye And rich as Chaucer's speech, and fair as Spenser's dream. William Allingbam 1824-1889 HOMEWARD BOUND (From Flower Pieces and Other Poems, 1888) I. Head the ship for England! Shake out every sail! II. We've traded with the Yankees, Everywhere and home again, III. Nightly stands the North Star Straight we run for England; Our thoughts are in it now. Jolly time with friends ashore, That's the sailor's way! IV. Tom will to his parents, Round the world and home again, That's the sailor's way! Round the world and home again, FOUR DUCKS ON A POND (From the same) Four ducks on a pond, A grass-bank beyond, To remember for years- HEATHER (From the same) Vast barren hills and moors, cliffs over lakes, Or else a tranquil blue horizon takes Sunlight and shadow. Few can understand The poor folk's ancient tongue, sweet, simple, grand, Wherein a dreamy old-world half awakes. And on these hills a thousand years ago Their fathers wander'd, sun and stars for clock, With minds to wing above and creep below; Heard what we hear, the ocean's solemn shock,— Saw what we see, this Heather-flow'r aglow, Empurpling league-long slope and crested rock. HALF-WAKING (From the same) I thought it was the little bed A straight white curtain at the head, I thought I saw the nursery fire, If I should make the slightest sound To show that I'm awake, She'd rise, and lap the blankets round, Kiss me, and turn my face to see The shadows on the wall, And then sing Rousseau's Dream to me, But this is not my little bed; That time is far away; With strangers now I live instead, George Meredith 1828-1909 JUGGLING JERRY (From Modern Love and Poems of the English Roadside, 1862) I. Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes: By the old hedge-side we'll halt a stage. It's nigh my last above the daisies: My next leaf'll be man's blank page. II. We've travelled times to this old common: |