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Eugene Field - In Praise Of Truth And Simplicity In Song
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Oh, for the honest, blithesome times
          Of bosky Sherwood long ago,
      When Allen trolled his amorous rhymes
          And Robin twanged his crafty bow;
      When Little John and Friar Tuck
          Traversed the greenwood far and near,
      Feasting on many a royal buck
          Washed down with brown October beer!

      Beside their purling sylna rills,
          What knew these yeomen bold and free
      Of envious cares and grewsome ills
          That now, sweet friend, vex you and me?
      Theirs but to roam the leafy glade,
          Beshrewing sheriffs, lords, and priests,
      To loll supine beneath the shade,
          Regaling monarchs with their feasts.

      The murrain seize these ribald times
          When there is such a lust for gold
      That poets fashion all their rhymes,
          Like varlet tradesfolk, to be sold!
      Not so did Allen when he troll’d
          His ballads in that merry glade;
      Nay, in those courteous days of old
          The minstrel spurned the tricks of trade!

      So, Joyous friend, when you and I
          Sing to the world our chosen theme,
      Let’s do as do the birds that fly
          Careless o’er woodland, wold, and stream:
      Sing Nature’s song, untouched of art --
          Sing of the forest, brook, and plain;
      And, hearing it, each human heart
          Will vibrate with the sweet refrain.
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