Songs of Childhood Part 7

DOWN-ADOWN-DERRY

Down-adown-derry, Sweet Annie Maroon, Gathering daisies In the meadows of Doone, Sees a white fairy Skip buxom and free Where the waters go brawling In rills to the sea; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, Sweet Annie Maroon Through the green gra.s.ses Runs fleetly and soon, And lo! on a lily She sees one recline Whose eyes in her wee face Like the water-sparks shine; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, And shrill was her tune:-- 'Come to my water-house, Annie Maroon, Come in your pink gown, Your curls on your head, To wear the white samite And rubies instead'; Singing down-adown-derry.

'Down-adown-derry, Lean fish of the sea, Bring lanthorns for feasting The gay Faerie; And it's dancing on sand 'tis That's smoother than wool;-- Foam-fruit and wild honey To pleasure you full'; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, Sweet Annie Maroon Looked large on the fairy Curled wan as the moon; And all the grey ripples To the Mill racing by, With harps and with timbrels Did ringing reply; Singing down-adown-derry.

'Down-adown-derry,'

Sang the Fairy of Doone, Piercing the heart of Sweet Annie Maroon; And lo! when like roses The clouds of the sun Faded at dusk, gone Was Annie Maroon; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, The daisies are few; Frost twinkles powd'ry In haunts of the dew; Only the robin Perched on a white thorn, Can comfort the heart of A father forlorn; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, There's snow in the air; Ice where the lily Bloomed waxen and fair; He may call o'er the water, Cry--cry through the Mill, But Annie Maroon, alas!

Answer ne'er will; Singing down-adown-derry.

THE SUPPER

A wolf he p.r.i.c.ks with eyes of fire Across the night's o'ercrusted snows, Seeking his prey, He pads his way Where Jane benighted goes, Where Jane benighted goes.

He curdles the bleak air with ire, Ruffling his h.o.a.ry raiment through, And lo! he sees Beneath the trees Where Jane's light footsteps go, Where Jane's light footsteps go.

No hound peals thus in wicked joy, He snaps his muzzle in the snows, His five-clawed feet Do scamper fleet Where Jane's bright lanthorn shows, Where Jane's bright lanthorn shows.

Now his greed's green doth gaze unseen On a pure face of wilding rose, Her amber eyes In fear's surprise Watch largely as she goes, Watch largely as she goes.

Salt wells his hunger in his jaws, His l.u.s.t it revels to and fro, Yet small beneath A soft voice saith, 'Jane shall in safety go, Jane shall in safety go.'

He lurched as if a fiery lash Had scourged his hide, and through and through, His furious eyes O'erscanned the skies, But nearer dared not go, But nearer dared not go.

He reared like wild Bucephalus, His fangs like spears in him uprose, Ev'n to the town Jane's flitting gown He grins on as she goes, He grins on as she goes.

In fierce lament he howls amain, He scampers, marvelling in his throes What brought him there To sup on air, While Jane unarmed goes, While Jane unarmed goes.

THE ISLE OF LONE

Three dwarfs there were which lived on an isle, And the name of the isle was Lone, And the names of the dwarfs were Alliolyle, Lallerie, Muziomone.

Alliolyle was green of een, Lallerie light of locks, Muziomone was mild of mien, As ewes in April flocks.

Their house was small and sweet of the sea, And pale as the Malmsey wine; Their bowls were three, and their beds were three, And their nightcaps white were nine.

Their beds were of the holly-wood, Their combs of the tortoisesh.e.l.l, Their mirrors clear as wintry flood, Frozen dark and snell.

So each would lie on his plumpy pillow, The moon for company, And hear the parrot scream to the billow, And the billow roar reply.--

Sulphur parrots, and parrots red, Scarlet, and flame, and green; And five-foot apes that jargoned In feathery-tufted treen.

And oh, or ever the dawning shed On dreams a narrow flame, Three gaping dwarfs gat out of bed And gazed upon the same.

At dawn they fished, at noon they snared Young foxes in the dells, At even on dew-berries they fared, And blew in their twisted sh.e.l.ls.

Dark was the sea they gambolled in, And thick with silver fish, Dark as green gla.s.s blown clear and thin To be a monarch's dish.

They sate to sup in a jasmine bower, Lit pale with flies of fire, Their bowls the hue of the iris-flower, And lemon their attire.

Sweet wine in little cups they sipped, And golden honeycomb Into their bowls of cream they dipped, Whipt light and white as foam.

Alliolyle, where the salt sea flows, Taught three old apes to sing, And there to the moon, like a full-blown rose, They capered in a ring.

But down to the sh.o.r.e skipped Lallerie, His parrot on his thumb, And the twain they scritched in mockery, While the dancers go and come.

So, alas! in the evening, rosy and still, Light-haired Lallerie Bitterly quarrelled with Alliolyle By the yellow-sanded sea.

The rising moon swam sweet and large Before their furious eyes, And they rolled and rolled to the coral marge Where the surf for ever cries.

Too late, too late, comes Muziomone: Clear in the clear green sea Alliolyle lies not alone, But clasped with Lallerie.

He blows on his sh.e.l.l plaintive notes; Ape, parraquito, bee Flock where a shoe on the salt wave floats,-- The shoe of Lallerie.

He fetches nightcaps, one and nine, Grey apes he dowers three, His house as fair as the Malmsey wine Seems sad as cypress-tree.

Three bowls he brims with honeycomb To feast the b.u.mble bees, Saying, 'O bees, be this your home, For grief is on the seas!'

He sate him lone in a coral grot, At the flowing of the tide; When ebbed the billow, there was not, Save coral, aught beside.

So hairy apes in three white beds, And nightcaps, one and nine, On moonlit pillows lay three heads Bemused with dwarfish wine.

A tomb of coral, the dirge of bee, The grey apes' guttural groan For Alliolyle, for Lallerie, For thee, O Muziomone!

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY