No.27

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER
Thomas Campbell 1777-1844

A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, “Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!''

“Now, who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy weather?''
“O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.

“And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.

“His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?''

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
“I'll go, my chief - I'm ready,
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady.

“And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So, though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry.''

By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armèd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.

“O haste thee, haste!'' the lady cries,
“Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.''

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,
When, O! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they row'd amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:
Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,
His wrath was changed to wailing.

For, sore dismay'd through storm and shade,
His child he did discover -
One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
And one was round her lover.

“Come back! come back!'' he cried in grief
Across this stormy water:
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter! - O my daughter!''

'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore,
Return or aid preventing:
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.

-o0o-

A TIRED HOUSEWIFE
Anon

Here lies a poor woman who was always tired,
She lived in a house where help wasn't hired:
Her last words on earth were: “Dear friends, I am going
To where there's no cooking, or washing, or sewing,
For everything there is exact to my wishes,
For where they don't eat there's no washing of dishes.
I'll be where loud anthems will always be ringing,
But having no voice I'll be quit of the singing.
Don't mourn for me now, don't mourn for me never,
I am going to do nothing for ever and ever.”
 
-o0o-

YOU DO SOMETHING TO ME
Cole Porter 1891-1964

You do something to me.
Something that simply mystifies me.
Tell me, why should it be
You have the pow'r to hypnotize me.
Let me live 'neath your spell.
Do do that voodoo that you do so well.
For you do something to me
That nobody else can do.


  -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

No.26

ODE TO AUTUMN
John Keats 1795-1821 

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing, and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

-o0o-

WILD NIGHTS! WILD NIGHTS!
Emily Dickenson 1830-86 

Wild Nights! Wild Nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port, -
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart!

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in Thee!

-o0o-

WITH RUE MY HEART IS LADEN
A.E. Housman 1859-1936

With rue my heart is laden   
  For golden friends I had,   
For many a rose-lipt maiden   
  And many a lightfoot lad.   

By brooks too broad for leaping           
  The lightfoot boys are laid;   
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping   
  In fields where roses fade.

-o0o-

WE’LL GO NO MORE A-ROVING
George, Lord Byron 1788-1824

So, we'll go no more a-roving   
  So late into the night,   
Though the heart be still as loving,   
  And the moon be still as bright.   

For the sword outwears its sheath,            
  And the soul wears out the breast,   
And the heart must pause to breathe,   
  And love itself have rest.   

Though the night was made for loving,   
  And the day returns too soon,     
Yet we'll go no more a-roving   
  By the light of the moon.

-o0o-

NEW - now online - NEW

IN THE CHOCOLATE BOX STYLE

The term, usually derogatory, describes idealistic, sentimental paintings. Artists like Renoir were often derided for producing such works. The genre was particularly loved by the Victorians and my selection will appeal to many today.

http://inthechocolateboxstyle.blogspot.com

No.25

THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL
Anon

There lived a wife at Usher's Well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them o’er the sea.

They hadna' been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
When word came to the carline wife,
That her three sons were gane.

They hadna' been a week from her,
A week but barely three,
When word came to the carline wife
That her sons she‘d never see.

"I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fashes in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood."

It fell about the Martinmass,
When nights are long and mirk,
The carline wife's three sons came hame,
But their hats were o’ the birk.

It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in any sheugh;
But at the gates o' Paradise,
That birk grew fair enough.

"Blow up the fire my maidens,
Bring water from the well;
For a' my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well."

And she has made to them a bed,
She's made it large and wide,
And she's ta'en her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bed-side.

Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up then crew the grey;
The eldest to the youngest said,
“Tis time we were away.”

The cock he hadna' crowed but once,
And clapped his wings at a',
When the youngest to the eldest said,
“Brother, we must awa'.”

"Fare ye well, our mother dear!
Farewell to barn and byre!
And fare ye well, the bonny lass
That kindles our mother's fire!"

-o0o-

THE SOLITARY REAPER
William Wordsworth 1770-1850 

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

-o0o-

THE ASH GROVE
Anon

Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander,
When twilight is fading, I pensively rove,
Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander
Amid the dark shades of the lonely Ash grove.

'Twas there while the blackbird was joyfully singing,
I first met my dear one, the joy of my heart;
Around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing,
Ah! then little thought I how soon we should part.

Still grows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain,
Still warbles the blackbird his note from the tree;
Still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain,
But what are the beauties of nature to me.

With sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden,
All day I go mourning in search of my love.
Ye echoes, O tell me, where is the sweet maiden?
She sleeps 'neath the green turf down by the Ash grove.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

No.24

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE

Christopher Marlowe 1564-93

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the Rocks,
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow Rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of Roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and Ivy buds,
With Coral clasps and Amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
 

-o0o-

SEA FEVER

John Masefield 1878-1967

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
 

-o0o-

DAFFODILS

William Wordsworth 1770-1850

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

No.23

ABOU BEN ADHEM
Leigh Hunt 1784-1859 

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said
"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still, and said "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

-o0o-

BILLY AND ME
James Hogg 1770-1835

Where the pools are bright and deep,
Where the grey trout lies asleep,
Up the river and over the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest,
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,
Where the nestlings chirp and flee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest,
Where the hay lies thick and greenest,
There to track the homeward bee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest,
Where the shadow falls the deepest,
Where the clustering nuts fall free,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away
Little sweet maidens from the play,
Or love to banter and fight so well,
That's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play
Through the meadow, among the hay;
Up the water and over the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

-o0o-

THE ISLE OF CAPRI
Jimmy Kennedy 1902-1984 

‘Twas on the Isle of Capri that I found her
Beneath the shade of an old walnut tree,
Oh, I can still see the flowers blooming round her
Where we met on the Isle of Capri.

She was as sweet as a rose at the dawning
But somehow fate hadn’t meant her for me,
And though I sailed with the tide in the morning
Still my heart’s on the Isle of Capri.

Summertime was nearly over,
Blue Italian sky above,
I said “Lady, I’m a rover,
Can you spare a sweet word of love?”

She whispered softly “It’s best not to linger,”
Then as I kissed her hand I could see
She wore a plain golden ring on her finger,
‘Twas goodbye on the Isle of Capri.

-o0o-

ACCIDENT

Harry Graham 1874-1936

"There's been an accident!" they said,

"Your servant's cut in half; he's dead."

 "Indeed!" said Mr Jones, "and please
Give me the half that's got my keys.'"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

No.22

UNWELCOME
Mary Coleridge 1861-1907

We were young, we were merry, we were very, very wise,
And the door stood open at our feast,
When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.

O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,
The loudest voice was still,
The jest died away on our lips as they passed,
And the rays of July struck chill.

The cups of red wine turned pale on the board,
The white bread black as soot,
The hound forgot the hand of her lord,
She fell down at his foot.

Low let me lie where the dead dog lies,
Ere I sit me down again at a feast,
When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.

-o0o-

DOON IN THE WEE ROOM
Anon

Doon in the wee room underneath the stair
Everybody's happy and everybody's there,
We're a' makin' merry, each in his chair
Doon in the wee room underneath the stair.

When you're tired and weary and you're feeling blue,
Don't give way tae sorrow, we'll tell you what to do,
Just tak' a trip tae Springburn and find the Quin's Bar there
And go doon tae the wee room underneath the stair.

The king went oot a-hunting, his fortune for tae seek.
He missed his train at Partick and went missing for a week.
And after days of searching, of sorrow and despair,
They found him in the wee room underneath the stair.

If your team has won the day and you want tae cheer,
Take a trip tae Springburn and order up a beer,
Hae yersel' a bevvy, gie yersel' a tear,
Doon in the wee room underneath the stair.

When I'm auld and feeble and my bones are gettin' set,
Ah'll no get cross and grumpy like other people get,
Ah'm savin' up ma bawbees tae buy a hurly chair
Tae tak' me tae the wee room underneath the stair.

-o0o-

ONE PERFECT ROSE
Dorothy Parker 1893-1967

A single flower he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet –
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one’s ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah, no – it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

-o0o-

DOWN IN THE FOREST

- Harold Simpson (dates not known)

Down in the forest something stirred
So faint that I scarcely heard,
But the forest leapt at the sound,
Like a good ship homeward bound.
Down in the forest something stirred,
It was only the song of a bird.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

No.21

IN EXTREMIS
  John Updike 1932-2009
 

I saw my toes the other day.
I hadn't looked at them for months.
Indeed, they might have passed away.
And yet they were my best friends once.
When I was small, I knew them well.
I counted on them up to ten
And put them in my mouth to tell
The larger from the lesser. Then
I loved them better than my ears,
My elbows, adenoids, and heart.
But with the swelling of the years
We drifted, toes and I, apart.
Now, gnarled and pale, each said, “j'accuse!”
I hid them quickly in my shoes.

-o0o-

YOUNG AND OLD 
Charles Kingsley 1819-75

When all the world is young, lad,

  And all the trees are green,
And every goose a swan, lad,
  And every lass a queen,
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
  And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
  And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad,
  And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
  And all the wheels run down,
Creep home, and take your place there,
  The spent and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there
  You loved when all was young.

-o0o-

TWO HUNTERS
Anon

There were but two beneath the sky -
The thing I came to kill, and I.
I, under covert, quietly
Watched him sense eternity
From quivering brush to pointed nose
My gun to shoulder level rose.
And then I felt (I could not see)
Far off a hunter watching me.
I slowly put my rifle by,
For there were two who had to die -
The thing I wished to kill, and I.

-o0o-

LILI MARLENE
English words by Tommie Connor

Underneath the lantern by the barrack gate
Darling I remember the way you used to wait,
Twas there that you whispered tenderly
That you loved me,
You'd always be
My Lili of the lamplight,
My own Lili Marlene.

Time would come for roll call,
Time for us to part,
Darling I'd caress you and press you to my heart,
And there 'neath that far off lantern light
I'd hold you tight,
We'd kiss good-night,
My Lili of the lamplight,
My own Lili Marlene

.
Orders came for sailing somewhere over there,
All confined to barracks was more than I could bear,
I knew you were waiting in the street,
I heard your feet,
But could not meet
My Lili of the lamplight,
My own Lili Marlene.

Resting in a billet just behind the line,
Even tho' we're parted your lips are close to mine,
You wait where that lantern softly gleams,
Your sweet face seems to haunt my dreams,
My Lili of the lamplight,
My own Lili Marlene.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-