---

James Whitcomb Riley - Some Songs After Master Singers
Work rating: Low

I

SONG

[W.S.]


  With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho rhyme!
      O the shepherd lad
      He is ne`er so glad
  As when he pipes, in the blossom-time,
      So rare!
  While Kate picks by, yet looks not there.
      So rare! so rare!
  _With a hey! and a hi! and a ho!_
  _The grasses curdle where the daisies blow!_

  With a hey! and a hi! and a hey-ho vow!
      Then he sips her face
      At the sweetest place--
  And ho! how white is the hawthorn now!--
      So rare!--
  And the daisied world rocks round them there.
      So rare! so rare!
  _With a hey! and a hi! and a ho!_
  _The grasses curdle where the daisies blow!_

 

II

TO THE CHILD JULIA

[R.H.]


  Little Julia, since that we
  May not as our elders be,
  Let us blithely fill the days
  Of our youth with pleasant plays.
  First we`ll up at earliest dawn,
  While as yet the dew is on
  The sooth`d grasses and the pied
  Blossomings of morningtide;
  Next, with rinsed cheeks that shine
  As the enamell`d eglantine,
  We will break our fast on bread
  With both cream and honey spread;
  Then, with many a challenge-call,
  We will romp from house and hall,
  Gypsying with the birds and bees
  Of the green-tress`d garden trees.
  In a bower of leaf and vine
  Thou shalt be a lady fine
  Held in duress by the great
  Giant I shall personate.
  Next, when many mimics more
  Like to these we have played o`er,


  We`ll betake us home-along
  Hand in hand at evensong.


III

THE DOLLY`S MOTHER

[W.W.]


  A little maid, of summers four--
    Did you compute her years,--
  And yet how infinitely more
    To me her age appears:

  I mark the sweet child`s serious air,
    At her unplayful play,--
  The tiny doll she mothers there
    And lulls to sleep away,

  Grows--`neath the grave similitude--
    An infant real, to me,
  And _she_ a saint of motherhood
    In hale maturity.


  So, pausing in my lonely round,
    And all unseen of her,
  I stand uncovered--her profound
    And abject worshipper.


IV

WIND OF THE SEA

[A.T.]


  Wind of the Sea, come fill my sail--
  Lend me the breath of a freshening gale
    And bear my port-worn ship away!
  For O the greed of the tedious town--
  The shutters up and the shutters down!
    Wind of the Sea, sweep over the bay
      And bear me away!--away!

  Whither you bear me, Wind of the Sea,
  Matters never the least to me:
    Give me your fogs, with the sails adrip,
  Or the weltering path thro` the starless night--
  On, somewhere, is a new daylight
    And the cheery glint of another ship
      As its colors dip and dip!


  Wind of the Sea, sweep over the bay
    And bear me away!--away!


V

SUBTLETY

[R.B.]


  Whilst little Paul, convalescing, was staying
  Close indoors, and his boisterous classmates paying


    Him visits, with fresh school-notes and surprises,--
  With nettling pride they sprung the word "Athletic,"
  With much advice and urgings sympathetic
    Anent "Athletic exercises." Wise as
  Lad might look, quoth Paul: "I`ve pondered o`er that
  `Athletic,` but I mean to take, before that,
    Downstairic and outdooric exercises."

 

VI

BORN TO THE PURPLE

[W.M.]


  Most-like it was this kingly lad
  Spake out of the pure joy he had
  In his child-heart of the wee maid
  Whose eerie beauty sudden laid
  A spell upon him, and his words
  Burst as a song of any bird`s:--

  A peerless Princess thou shalt be,
  Through wit of love`s rare sorcery:
  To crown the crown of thy gold hair
  Thou shalt have rubies, bleeding there
  Their crimson splendor midst the marred
  Pulp of great pearls, and afterward

  Leaking in fainter ruddy stains
  Adown thy neck-and-armlet-chains
  Of turquoise, chrysoprase, and mad
  Light-frenzied diamonds, dartling glad
  Swift spirts of shine that interfuse
  As though with lucent crystal dews
  That glance and glitter like split rays
  Of sunshine, born of burgeoning Mays
  When the first bee tilts down the lip
  Of the first blossom, and the drip
  Of blended dew and honey heaves
  Him blinded midst the underleaves.
  For raiment, Fays shall weave for thee--
  Out of the phosphor of the sea
  And the frayed floss of starlight, spun
  With counterwarp of the firm sun--
  A vesture of such filmy sheen
  As, through all ages, never queen
  Therewith strove truly to make less
  One fair line of her loveliness.
  Thus gowned and crowned with gems and gold,
  Thou shalt, through centuries untold,
  Rule, ever young and ever fair,
  As now thou rulest, smiling there.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.