JOHN BARLEYCORN. There were three kings into the east, They took a plough and ploughed him down, And they have sworn a solemn oath, But the cheerful spring came kindly on, And showers began to fall; John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all. The sultry suns of summer came, The sober autumn entered mild, His bending joints and drooping head, His colour sickened more and more, He faded into age; And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage. They took a weapon long and sharp Like a rogue for forgery. They laid him down upon his back, They filled up next a darksome pit They heaved in poor John Barleycorn, They laid him out upon the floor, They wasted o'er a scorching flame But a miller used him worst of all, For he crushed him 'tween two stones. And they have taken his very heart's blood, And drunk it round and round; [But they that wrought this wicked deed No peace thereafter found.] Burns. THE CUCKOO. Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove! What time the daisy decks the green, Delightful visitant! with thee I hail the time of flowers, The school-boy, wandering in the wood Starts thy most curious voice to hear, And imitates thy lay. Soon as the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest the vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, No winter in thy year. O could I fly, I'd fly with thee; John Logan. THE LITTLE BROOK. FROM THE GERMAN. Gently flow through sun and shadow, And by copse and flowery meadow Feed the flowers that hang above thee, J. S. Stallybrass. (by per.) Listen to me, SONG OF A RIVER. My waters in the upland pastures rise, Fed by the earth and skies; Thence tend and set to the wide flowing sea; And not a hill that lies Along my course but seeth her green sides Far down my glassy tides. Oh, long-aye, long these scatter'd trees have stood, And long this stretching wood.— But I was old Ere they did first their budding germs unfold, Or the green acorns fell, That into their great parent oaks did swell, I was a river when the earth was young; And from my source I sprung, And danced with joyous cadence clear and strong, Sweet melodies I sung Ere there was ear of man to hearken to my song. Rev. Edward Harston. THE ROBIN'S NEST. She had a secret of her own, With feathers, moss, and horse-hairs twined, Breathless and beautiful she stood, As though a pulse might break the spell, She stood so silent, stayed so long, Peered o'er the edge-while, fixed and still, James Montgomery. THE FIRST DAY OF MARCH. It is the first mild day of March, There is a blessing in the air Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare, And grass in the green field. My sister! ('tis a wish of mine) Now that our morning meal is done, One moment now may give us more Then come, my sister! come, I pray, Wordsworth, THE DAISY. A gold and silver cup Earth holds her Daisy up To catch the sunshine in: A dial chaste, set there To show each radiant hour: A field-astronomer; A sun-observing flower. The children with delight She lifteth up her cup, She gazeth on the sky; Content, in wind and cold To stand, in shine and shower; A white-rayed marigold, Henry Sutton. |