my
delicate
mam,
I dance to the tune of a blue-bell,
Which told me what I am.
I dance to the tune of a blue-bell,
Which told me what I am.
Tennyson
"
Oh! the young lord's wild amazement
As he heard that tiny hum;
Turned the lantern light behind him
Stricken with amazement dumb.
Oh! the young lord's vast confusion
As its meaning gave a flicker--
Oh! the mild iconoclastic
Staring o'er the edge of wicker.
Staring--staring--simply staring
With his filmy red-rimmed eyes--
Down Hasan his father lifted
Silent still in strange surmise.
Never faster had prince ridden
From the place of Persian devils,
Where its huge and inky bastions
Frowned across the golden levels;
Nor before had faster travelled
Scion of the equine brood
Than that day, that day of portent,
Galloped she the silver-shoed.
Saw Hasan the meaning clearly
And a prophet (so they said)
After sunset thro' the taverns
Loud proclaimed the custom dead.
This a legend of old Persia
Of an earlier happier day
Of a happy happy people--
How they ended none can say.
The Enchanted Gipsy.
"Gilda, Gilda, my ragged child,
Where have you been,
In the lane, the green lane, or the heather,
My little queen? "
"Honey mother, sweet little mother,
Oh! my old grey mummy,
It's the blood of berries on my skirt
Makes me look rummy. "
"There is no juice on your coral lips,
Your amber eyes are wild,
And why do you dance like an angry jay,
My fairy child? "
"I can tell, I can tell,
Oh!
my delicate mam,
I dance to the tune of a blue-bell,
Which told me what I am. "
"Gilda, Gilda, my lovely child,
Say how it spoke,
There is nothing well in a flower's spell
On one of our folk. "
"Oh! my pet, my beautiful heart,
Oh! my cunning mummy,
My cousin the sun and the wind have begun,
That's why I look rummy. "
"I have known one since I have begun,
I have known a dozen,
But never I knew a girl was true
Who called _them_ cousin. "
"Oh! my mam, my delicate mam,
Do not scold your daughter,
I only went to the Witch's pool
And looked in the water. "
"Oh! my dove, my beautiful elf,
Was the water clear as heaven,
Did you weave a crown of flowers for yourself,
In the magic of even? "
"Oh! my mother, my honey mother,
The water was heaven-clear,
I wove a crown of marigolds. . . .
But why do you look so queer?
Oh! the young lord's wild amazement
As he heard that tiny hum;
Turned the lantern light behind him
Stricken with amazement dumb.
Oh! the young lord's vast confusion
As its meaning gave a flicker--
Oh! the mild iconoclastic
Staring o'er the edge of wicker.
Staring--staring--simply staring
With his filmy red-rimmed eyes--
Down Hasan his father lifted
Silent still in strange surmise.
Never faster had prince ridden
From the place of Persian devils,
Where its huge and inky bastions
Frowned across the golden levels;
Nor before had faster travelled
Scion of the equine brood
Than that day, that day of portent,
Galloped she the silver-shoed.
Saw Hasan the meaning clearly
And a prophet (so they said)
After sunset thro' the taverns
Loud proclaimed the custom dead.
This a legend of old Persia
Of an earlier happier day
Of a happy happy people--
How they ended none can say.
The Enchanted Gipsy.
"Gilda, Gilda, my ragged child,
Where have you been,
In the lane, the green lane, or the heather,
My little queen? "
"Honey mother, sweet little mother,
Oh! my old grey mummy,
It's the blood of berries on my skirt
Makes me look rummy. "
"There is no juice on your coral lips,
Your amber eyes are wild,
And why do you dance like an angry jay,
My fairy child? "
"I can tell, I can tell,
Oh!
my delicate mam,
I dance to the tune of a blue-bell,
Which told me what I am. "
"Gilda, Gilda, my lovely child,
Say how it spoke,
There is nothing well in a flower's spell
On one of our folk. "
"Oh! my pet, my beautiful heart,
Oh! my cunning mummy,
My cousin the sun and the wind have begun,
That's why I look rummy. "
"I have known one since I have begun,
I have known a dozen,
But never I knew a girl was true
Who called _them_ cousin. "
"Oh! my mam, my delicate mam,
Do not scold your daughter,
I only went to the Witch's pool
And looked in the water. "
"Oh! my dove, my beautiful elf,
Was the water clear as heaven,
Did you weave a crown of flowers for yourself,
In the magic of even? "
"Oh! my mother, my honey mother,
The water was heaven-clear,
I wove a crown of marigolds. . . .
But why do you look so queer?
