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Adventurers

This morning I got up before the sun
Had seized the hill,
And scrambled heart-hot, noisy, past each one
In sleep laid still.
There they lay helpless under the gold stars,
Good folk and kind,
By sleep the robber spoiled of heavenly wares,
Made deaf and blind.
The leaves cracked, the grass rustled as I passed.
I might have been
Myself the thief. Each minute seemed the last
Of freedom's teen.
But lonely down the hill in Levite's guise
Or priest's, I ran.
I had not proved myself, true loverwise,
Samaritan.
The wind went by me, pulling at my hair.
I left the track.
My last night's purpose terrible and fair
Came sweeping back.

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poem by Lesbia Harford
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To A Child

(Rosamund.)

The fairies have been busy while you slept;
They have been laughing where the sad rain wept,
They have taught Beauty to the ignorant flowers,
Set tasks of hope to weary wind-torn bowers,
And heard the lessons learned in school-rooms cold
By seedling snapdragon and marigold.
At dawn, while still you slept, I grew aware
How good the fairies are, how many and fair.

The fairy whose delightful gown is red
Across a corner of our garden sped,
And, where her flying raiment fluttered past,
Its roseate reflection still is cast:
Red poppies by the rhododendron's side,
Paeonies gorgeous in their summer pride,
And red may-bushes by the old red wall
Shower down their crimson petals over all.

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poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Proud Lady

When Stiivoren town was in its prime
And queened the Zuyder Zee,
Its ships went out to every clime
With costly merchantry.

A lady dwelt in that rich town,
The fairest in all the land;
She walked abroad in a velvet gown,
With many rings on her hand.

Her hair was bright as the beaten gold,
Her lips as coral red,
Her roving eyes were blue and bold,
And her heart with pride was fed.

For she was proud of her father's ships,
As she watched them gayly pass;
And pride looked out of her eyes and lips
When she saw herself in the glass.

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poem by Henry Van Dyke
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A Letter

After W. M. P.
Dear Kitty,
At length the term's ending;
I 'm in for my Schools in a week;
And the time that at present I'm spending
On you should be spent upon Greek:
But I'm fairly well read in my Plato,
I'm thoroughly red in the eyes,
And I've almost forgotten the way to
Be healthy and wealthy and wise.
So 'the best of all ways'—why repeat you
The verse at 2.30 a.m.,
When I 'm stealing an hour to entreat you
Dear Kitty, to come to Commem.?
Oh, come! You shall rustle in satin
Through halls where Examiners trod:
Your laughter shall triumph o'er Latin
In lecture-room, garden, and quad.
They stand in the silent Sheldonian—
Our orators, waiting—for you,

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poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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A Few Remarks on Goats, Asses and the Dead Hand

I don't mind kings and dukes and things;
I don't mind wigs or maces;
I don't mind crowns or robes or gowns
Or ruffles, swords or laces
But what I do object to, and some others more than I,
Are the mad old, bad old practices these baubles signify.

Good friends, brother Australians and fellow voters;
I think that you will agree with me that few of us are doters
Upon the customs, practices, fooleries and tommyrotics of the mouldy past;
Nor are we apt to cast
A reverent eye behindward upon ancient precedent:
Nor do we consent
To let the cold, clammy and unusually muddling Dead Hand
Control the destinies of this our native land.
Nay, rather do we stand
Tiptoe upon the summit of the Present, peering out,
With faces eager and expectant eyes, into the mystic Future. Have you a doubt
That in Progress, Business-like Procedure, Common-sense Habit, and Up-to-Date

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Baffled Knight, Or Lady's Policy

There was a knight was drunk with wine,
A riding along the way, sir;
And there he met with a lady fine,
Among the cocks of hay, sir.

'Shall you and I, O lady faire,
Among the grass lye down-a,
And I will have a special care
Of rumpling of your gown-a?'

'Upon the grass there is a dewe
Will spoil my damask gown, sir;
My gowne and kirtle they are newe,
And cost me many a crowne, sir.'

'I have a cloak of scarlet red,
Upon the ground I'll throwe it;
Then, lady faire, come, lay thy head;
We'll play, and none shall knowe it.'

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Mission Chapel Memories

Writers Dolly Parton, Porter Wagoner
Copyright 1971
Tonight oh it's quiet in mission chapel and the music like his love has died
away
And I'm standing in the middle of these mem'ries
Mission chapel mem'ries of our wedding day
I see the rives still scattered all around that fall upon my satin wedding gown
And the wedding bells that rang are silent now only mission chapel mem'ries all
around
Tonight I'm all alone at mission chapel and I'm thinking of my love so far away
While I'm standing in the middle all these mem'ries
Mission chapel mem'ries of our wedding day
I see the rives still scattered all around that fall upon my satin wedding gown
The gown I wore when I became his bride
And now these mission chapel mem'ries fill my eyes
Yes these mission chapel mem'ries fill my eyes

song performed by Dolly Parton
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See See Rider

And its hey, hey hey,
She was standin in the kitchen, honey, in her morning gown,
Lord, she was standin in the kitchen, babe, in her morning gown.
She was standin in the kitchen, honey, in her morning gown.
But I say hey hey, hey hey,
Lord, see see rider, see what you done done,
Lord, now, see see rider, honey, see what you have done.
Well, see see rider, see what you done done.
Well hey, hey hey hey, hey hey.
Well, the blues aint nothin but a good man feelin bad,
Lord, the blues aint nothin but a good man feelin bad.
Yeah, the blues aint nothin but a good man feelin bad.
Hey hey, hey, hey hey.
Lord, see see rider, honey, see what you have done,
Lord, well see see rider, see what you have done.
Yeah, see see rider, gonna see what you have done.
I say hey hey, hey hey.

song performed by Janis Joplin
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The Naked Goddess

Arcane danze
D'immortal piede i ruinosi gioghi
Scossero e l'ardue selve (oggi romito
Nido de' venti). LEOPARDI

Through the country to the town
Ran a rumour and renown,
That a woman grand and tall,
Swift of foot, and therewithal
Naked as a lily gleaming,
Had been seen by eyes not dreaming,
Darting down far forest glades,
Flashing sunshine through the shades.
With this rumour's swelling word
All the city buzzed and stirred;
Solemn senators conferred;
Priest, astrologer, and mage,
Subtle sophist, bard, and sage,
Brought their wisdom, lore, and wit,

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poem by James Thomson
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A Lay of St. Nicholas

'Statim sacerdoti apparuit diabolus in specie puellæ pulchritudinis miræ, et ecce Divus, fide catholica et cruce et aqua benedicta armatus, venit, et aspersit aquam in nomine Sanctæ et Individuæ Trinitatis, quam, quasi ardentem, diabolus, nequaquam sustinere valens, mugitibus fugit.'
-- Roger Hoveden.

Lord Abbot! Lord Abbot! I'd fain confess;
I am a-weary, and worn with woe;
Many a grief doth my heart oppress,
And haunt me whithersoever I go!'

On bended knee spake the beautiful Maid;
'Now lithe and listen, Lord Abbot, to me!'--
'Now naye, Fair Daughter,' the Lord Abbot said,
'Now naye, in sooth it may hardly be;

'There is Mess Michael, and holy Mess John,
Sage Penitauncers I ween be they!
And hard by doth dwell, in St. Catherine's cell,
Ambrose, the anchorite old and grey!'

'-- Oh, I will have none of Ambrose or John,
Though sage Penitauncers I trow they be;

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poem by Richard Harris Barham
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