DREAM-PEDLARY If there were dreams to sell, That shakes from Life's fresh crown If there were dreams to sell, And the crier rang the bell, What would you buy? A cottage lone and still, With bowers nigh, Shadowy, my woes to still, Until I die. Such pearl from Life's fresh crown Fain would I shake me down. Were dreams to have at will, This would best heal my ill, But there were dreams to sell Ill didst thou buy; Life is a dream, they tell, Waking, to die. 10 19 28 Dreaming a dream to prize, Is wishing ghosts to rise; Which one would I? If there are ghosts to raise, Out of hell's murky haze, Raise my loved long-lost boy Know'st thou not ghosts to sue? Else lie, as I will do, And breathe thy last. So out of Life's fresh crown Fall like a rose-leaf down. Thus are the ghosts to woo; Thus are all dreams made true, 1851. Ever to last! 46 Thomas Lovell Beddoes. GOOD-BY GOOD-BY, proud world! I'm going home: Good-By Long through thy weary crowds I roam; Long I've been tossed like the driven foam; Good-by to Flattery's fawning face; To crowded halls, to court and street; I'm going to my own hearth-stone, And vulgar feet have never trod A spot that is sacred to thought and God. O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, 6 14 22 I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, 1839. HUNTING SONG WAKEN, lords and ladies gay, All the jolly chase is here, With hawk and horse and hunting-spear! Hounds are in their couples yelling, Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Merrily, merrily, mingle they, 66 Waken, lords and ladies gay." Waken, lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain gray, To track the buck in thicket green; 66 Now we come to chant our lay, Waken, lords and ladies gay." Waken, lords and ladies gay, We can show the marks he made, When 'gainst. the oak his antlers frayed; Youth and Love Louder, louder chant the lay, Tell them youth and mirth and glee 1808. 1895. Sir Walter Scott. YOUTH AND LOVE ONCE only by the garden gate I must fulfil an empty fate And travel the uncharted. Hail and farewell! I must arise, The untented Kosmos my abode, I pass, a wilful stranger: My mistress still the open road And the bright eyes of danger. Come ill or well, the cross, the crown, The rainbow or the thunder, I fling my soul and body down Robert Louis Stevenson. 32 12 16 4 |