ught thee one rose, one,
And thou didst cast my rose away."
Hark! Oh hark, she mourneth yet,
"One good ship--the good ship sailed,
One bright star, at last it set,
One, one chance, forsooth it failed."
Clear thy dusk hair from thy veiled eyes,
Show thy face as thee beseems,
For yet is starlight in the skies,
Weird woman piteous through my dreams.
"Nay," she mourns, "forsooth not now,
Veiled I sit for evermore,
Rose is shed, and charmed prow
Shall not touch the charmed shore."
There thy sons that were to be,
Thy small gamesome children play;
There all loves that men foresee
Straight as wands enrich the way.
Dove-eyed, fair, with me they worm
Where enthroned I reign a queen,
In the lovely realms foregone,
In the lives that might have been.
ABOVE THE CLOUDS.[1]
And can this be my own world?
'Tis all gold and snow,
Save where scarlet waves are hurled
Down yon gulf below.
'Tis thy world, 'tis my world,
City, mead, and shore,
For he that hath his own world
Hath many worlds more.
[Footnote 1: "Above the Clouds," and thirteen poems following, are from
"Mopsa the Fairy."]
SLEEP AND TIME.
"Wake, baillie, wake! the crafts are out;
Wake!" said the knight, "be quick!
For high street, bye street, over the town
They fight with poker and stick."
Said the squire, "A fight so fell was ne'er
In all my bailliewick."
What said the old clock in the tower?
"Tick, tick, tick!"
"Wake, daughter, wake! the hour draws on;
Wake!" quoth the dame, "be quick!
The meats are set, the guests are coming,
The fiddler waxing his stick."
She said, "The bridegroom waiting and waiting
To see thy face is sick."
What said the new clock in her bower?
"Tick, tick, tick!"
BEES AND OTHER FELLOW-CREATURES.
The dove laid some little sticks,
Then began to coo;
The gnat took his trumpet up
To play the day through;
The pie chattered soft and long--
But that she always does;
The bee did all he had to do,
And only said, "Buzz."
THE GYPSY'S SELLING SONG.
My good man--he's an old, old man--
And my good man got a fall,
To buy me a bargain so fast he ran
When he heard the gypsies call:
"Buy, buy brushes,
Baskets wrought o' rushes.
Buy them, buy them, take them, try them,
Buy, dames all."
My old man, he has money and land,
And a young, young wife am I.
Let him put the penny in my white hand
Wh
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