TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY They lighted a great torch then, When his arms were pinioned fast; Sir John, the Knight of the Fen, Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast, With knights threescore and ten, Hung brave Sir Hugh at last. I am threescore and ten, And my hair is all turned gray, And am glad to think of the moment when I am threescore and ten, And my strength is mostly passed, But long ago I and my men, When the sky was overcast, 89 And the smoke rolled over the reeds of the fen, Slew Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast. And now, knights, all of you, William Morris. TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY WEE, modest, crimson-tippèd flower, For I maun crush amang the stour To spare thee now is past my power, Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet, When upward springing, blythe, to greet Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Scarce reared above the parent earth The flaunting flowers our gardens yield O' clod or stane Adorns the histie stibble-field, There, in thy scanty mantle clad, But now the share uptears thy bed, Robert Burns. THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON LOW 91 THE LAMB LITTLE Lamb, who made thee? Little Lamb, who made thee? Little Lamb, I'll tell thee; Little Lamb, I'll tell thee. William Blake. THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON LOW A MIDSUMMER LEGEND. "AND where have you been, my Mary, And where have you been from me?" "I have been to the top of the Caldon Low, The midsummer night to see." "And what did you see, my Mary, "And what did you hear, my Mary, "Oh, tell me all, my Mary, - "Then take me on your knee, mother; A hundred fairies danced last night, "And their harpstrings rung so merrily "And what were the words, my Mary, That then you heard them say?" "I'll tell you all, my mother; But let me have my way. THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON LOW 93 "Some of them played with the water, And rolled it down the hill; And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn "For there has been no water Ever since the first of May; And a busy man will the miller be At dawning of the day. "Oh, the miller, how he will laugh The jolly old miller, how he will laugh "And some they seized the little winds And each put a horn into his mouth, "And there,' they said, 'the merry winds go Away from every horn; 666 And they shall clear the mildew dark 'Oh, the poor, blind widow, Though she has been blind so long, She'll be blithe enough when the mildew's gone, And the corn stands tall and strong.' "And some they brought the brown lint-seed, And flung it down from the Low; |