Peacock Pie Part 7

WANDERERS

Wide are the meadows of night, And daisies are shining there, Tossing their lovely dews, l.u.s.trous and fair; And through these sweet fields go, Wanderers amid the stars -- Venus, Mercury, Ura.n.u.s, Neptune, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars.

'Tired in their silver, they move, And circling, whisper and say, Fair are the blossoming meads of delight Through which we stray.

MANY A MICKLE A little sound --- Only a little, a little --- The breath in a reed, A trembling fiddle; A trumpet's ring, The shuddering drum; So all the glory, bravery, hush Of music come.

A little sound --- Only a stir and a sigh Of each green leaf Its fluttering neighbor by; Oak on to oak, The wide dark forest through --- So o'er the watery wheeling world The night winds go.

A little sound, Only a little, a little --- The thin high drone Of the simmering kettle, The gathering frost, The click of needle and thread; Mother, the fading wall, the dream, The drowsy bed.

WILL EVER?

Will he ever be weary of wandering, The flaming sun?

Ever weary of waning in lovelight, The white still moon?

Will ever a shepherd come With a crook of simple gold, And lead all the little stars Like lambs to the fold?

Will ever the Wanderer sail From over the sea, Up the river of water, To the stones to me?

Will he take us all into his ship, Dreaming, and waft us far, To where in the clouds of the West The Islands are?

SONGS

THE SONG OF THE SECRET

Where is beauty?

Gone, gone: The cold winds have taken it With their faint moan; The white stars have shaken it, Trembling down, Into the pathless deeps of the sea.

Gone, gone Is beauty from me.

The clear naked flower Is faded and dead; The green-leafed willow, Drooping her head, Whispers low to the shade Of her boughs in the stream, Sighing a beauty, Secret as dream.

THE SONG OF THE SOLDIERS

As I sat musing by the frozen d.y.k.e, There was a man marching with a bright steel pike, Marching in the dayshine like a ghost came he, And behind me was the moaning and the murmur Of the sea.

As I sat musing, 'twas not one but ten --- Rank on rank of ghostly soldiers marching o'er the fen, Marching in the misty air they showed in dreams to me, And behind me was the shouting and the shattering of the sea.

As I sat musing, 'twas a host in dark array, With their horses and their cannon wheeling onward to the fray, Moving like a shadow to the fate the brave must dree, And behind me roared the drums, rang the trumpets of the sea.

THE BEES' SONG

Thousandz of thornz there be On the Rozez where gozez The Zebra of Zee: Sleek, striped, and hairy, The steed of the Fairy Princess of Zee.

Heavy with blossomz be The Rozez that growzez In the thickets of Zee.

Where grazez the Zebra, Marked Abracadeeebra, Of the Princess of Zee.

And he nozez that poziez Of the Rozez that grozez So luvez'm and free, With an eye, dark and wary, In search of a Fairy, Whose Rozez he knowzez Were not honeyed for he, But to breathe a sweet incense To solace the Princess Of far-away Zee.

SONG OF ENCHANTMENT

A Song of Enchantment I sang me there, In a green --green wood, by waters fair, Just as the words came up to me I sang it under the wildwood tree.

Widdershins turned I, singing it low, Watching the wild birds come and go; No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen Under the thick-thatched branches green.

Twilight came; silence came; The planet of Evening's silver flame; By darkening paths I wandered through Thickets trembling with drops of dew.

But the music is lost and the words are gone Of the song I sang as I sat alone, Ages and ages have fallen on me-- On the wood and the pool and the elder tree.

DREAM SONG

Sunlight, moonlight, Twilight, starlight- Gloaming at the close of day, And an owl calling, Cool dews falling In a wood of oak and may.

Lantern-light, taper-light, Torchlight, no-light: Darkness at the shut of day, And lions roaring, Their wrath pouring In wild waste places far away.

Elf-light, bat-light, Touchwood-light and toad-light, And the sea a shimmering gloom of grey, And a small face smiling In a dream's beguiling In a world of wonders far away.

THE SONG OF SHADOWS

Sweep thy faint Strings, Musician, With thy long lean hand; Downward the starry tapers burn, Sinks soft the waning sand; The old hound whimpers couched in sleep, The embers smoulder low; Across the walls the shadows Come, and go.

Sweep softly thy strings, Musician, The minutes mount to hours; Frost on the windless cas.e.m.e.nt weaves A labyrinth of flowers; Ghosts linger in the darkening air, Hearken at the open door; Music hath called them, dreaming, Home once more.

THE SONG OF THE MAD PRINCE

Who said, 'Peac.o.c.k Pie?'

The old King to the sparrow: Who said, 'Crops are ripe?'

Rust to the harrow: Who said, 'Where sleeps she now?'

Where rests she now her head, Bathed in eve's loveliness'? --- That's what I said.

Who said, 'Ay, mum's the word'?

s.e.xton to willow: Who said, 'Green duck for dreams, Moss for a pillow'?

Who said, 'All Time's delight Hath she for narrow bed; Life's troubled bubble broken'? --- That's what I said.

THE SONG OF FINIS

AT the edge of All the Ages A Knight sate on his steed, His armor red and thin with rust His soul from sorrow freed; And he lifted up his visor From a face of skin and bone, And his horse turned head and whinnied As the twain stood there alone.