BETA

The Sun of My Songs.


The birds are all a-singing,1
The skies are mad with winging ;2
And quick the seed-shells crackle, crickle, crackling up the earth ;3
The blossoms are thick in the trees,4
The pleasance is crowded with bees ;5
The fountain up-leaps, the anemonies6
Are shrill with the crickets in mirth.7
And under her window I waited ;—8
Alas, she was still in bed !9
My spring was all belated10
My sun is her golden head ;11
And all my song12
Was : ‘ Ding, dong,13
Summer is dead,14
Spring is dead,15
Winter is groaning along,16
The birds are singing all wrong ;17
I would I were dead.’18
From out her dreams she drifted,19
The coverlet quick lifted,20
And lithe her white-rose body uncurl’d from her snow-white smock,21
And tall at the window, and fair,22
She combèd her golden hair,—23
So fair—I would I were there, I were there,24
To dazzle me dead in each lock.25
O madman, a dev’! to your dirging ;26
For spring’s in the earth and the sky ;27
The rivers and meads are all surging28
With red bud-coifs thrown by ;29
And every flower is shaking her head,30
A-sheveling her hair on a green leaf bed,31
And making her comely and meet to be wed ;32
Yet all your song33
Is— ‘ Ding, dong,34
Summer is dead,35
Spring is dead36
O my heart, and O my head !37
Go a-singing a silly song,38
All wrong,39
For all is dead,40
Ding, dong,41
And I am dead,42
Dong !’43

********

O gold my sun up-waking,44
Your curtain clouds a-breaking,45
Like runnels, rustling trees and merles, my songs out-sing your spring ;46
I’ll sing of the warm blush-rose,47
And mellow the honey that flows48
I’ the bud that ripe to a full mouth blows,49
Or white the bloom-bosom with love that glows,50
And the gold-hair’d sun that makes me to sing.’51
And yet to your honour I’ll twine52
A garland fresh and fine ;53
And all the flowers that I shall pluck,54
The sweetest that bees suck,55
Shall be these songs of mine.56
Oh ! such songs for me to sing,57
Ding, dong,58
Summer along,59
And spring ;60
All along, long life along61
After death they still shall sing,62
Like to seeds of winter-thinking,63
All their bud-shells crankle-crinking,64
Shooting into summer song,65
Bursting into blossoming.’66
Symmetrical vegetal decoration. A fleuron rises from the centre. Curled foliates extend from both sides, ending with a leaf at each extremity.