THE BLIND BOY. OH, say what is that thing call'd Light, You talk of wondrous things you see, My day or night myself I make Whene'er I sleep or play; And could I ever keep awake With me 'twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe; Then let not what I cannot have When what to my wondering eyes should He had a broad face and a little round appear, belly But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny That shook, when he laugh'd, like a bowl reindeer, full of jelly. With a little old driver, so lively and He was chubby and plump-a right jolly And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd Soon gave me to know I had nothing to 66 Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Pran- He spake not a word, but went straight to cer! now, Vixen! his work, On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and And filled all the stockings; then turn'd Blitzen!with a jerk, To the top of the porch, to the top of the And laying his finger aside of his nose, INTRODUCTION TO "SONGS OF PIPING down the valleys wild, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a lamb !" So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again;" So I piped; he wept to hear. "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit thee down and write In a book, that all may read." And I stain'd the water clear, Every child may joy to hear. WILLIAM BLAKE THE MAY QUEEN. You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. There's many a black black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine; There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline : But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they say, So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, you do not call me loud, when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May. As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see, But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel tree? He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white, And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light. They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be: They say his heart is breaking, mother— what is that to me? There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. To night I saw the sun set: he set and left You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath behind the hawthorn shade, The good old year, the dear old time, and And you'll come sometimes and see me all my peace of mind; where I am lowly laid. And the New-year's coming up, mother, I shall not forget you, mother; I shall hear but I shall never see you when you pass, The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf With your feet above my head in the long upon the tree. and pleasant grass. Last May we made a crown of flowers: we had a merry day; I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now; Beneath the hawthorn on the green they You'll kiss me, my own mother, and forgive made me Queen of May; me ere I go; And we danced about the may-pole and in Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your the hazel copse, grief be wild, Till Charles's Wain came out above the You should not fret for me, mother, you tall white chimney-tops. have another child. There's not a flower on all the hills: the If I can I'll come again, mother, from out frost is on the pane: I only wish to live till the snow-drops come again : I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high: my resting-place; Tho' you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face; Tho' I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, I long to see a flower so before the day I And be often, often with you when you die. think I'm far away. The building rook 'ill caw from the windy Good-night, good-night, when I have said good-night for evermore, tall elm tree, And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow And you see me carried out from the lea, threshold of the door; And the swallow 'ill come back again with Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green: summer o'er the wave, But I shall lie alone, mother, within the She'll be a better child to you than ever I mouldering grave. have been. Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that She'll find my garden-tools upon the gran grave of mine, In the early early morning the summer sun 'ill shine, ary floor: Let her take 'em: they are hers: I shall never garden more: Before the red cock crows from the farm But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the upon the hill, rose-bush that I set When you are warm-asleep, mother, and About the parlor-window, and the box of all the world is still. mignonette. When the flowers come again, mother, Good-night, sweet mother: call me before beneath the waning light the day is born. You'll never see me more in the long gray All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at fields at night; When from the dry dark wold the summer morn; But I would see the sun rise upon the glad On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, airs blow cool the bulrush in the pool. mother dear. CONCLUSION. All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call; I thought to pass away before, and yet It was when the moon was setting, and the alive I am; And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb. How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year! To die before the snow-drop came, and now the violet's here. Oh, sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies, And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise, And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go. It seem'd so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun, And now it seems as hard to stay; and yet, His will be done! But still I think it can't be long before I find release; And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace. Oh, blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair, And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there! Oh, blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head! A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed. He taught me all the mercy, for he show'd me all the sin. Now, tho' my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in; Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be, For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me. dark was over all; I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret; death-watch beat, There came a sweeter token when the night There's many a worthier than I would make him happy yet. But sit beside my bed, mother, and put If I had lived-I cannot tell-I might and morning meet; your hand in mine, have been his wife, And Effie on the other side, and I will tell But all these things have ceased to be, with the sign. my desire of life. |