On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.
But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.
They trail behind her up the floor,And trundle after through the door.
That dawn should find us every daySome fraction farther on our way.The dumb lands sleep from east to west,They stretch and turn and take their rest.The cock has crown in the steading-yard,But priest and people slumber hard.We two are early forth, and hearThe nations snoring far and near.So peacefully their rest they take,It seems we…
The broad road lies before meWatered with last night’s rain.The timbered country woos meWith many a high and bough;And again in the shining fallowsThe ploughman follows the plough.The whole year’s sweat and study,And the whole year’s sowing time,Comes now to the perfect harvest,And ripens now into rhyme.For we that sow in the Autumn,We reap our…
From where the dogs of Scotland call the sheep around the fold,To where the flags are flying beside the Gates of Gold.Where all the deep-sea galleons ride that come to bring the corn,Where falls the fog at eventide and blows the breeze at morn;It’s there that I was sick and sad, alone and poor and…
Here in the arbour-likeTent of the laurel.Here in the forkThe brown nest is seated;For little blue eggsThe mother keeps heated.While we stand watching herStaring like gabies,Safe in each egg are theBird’s little babies.Soon the frail eggs they shallChip, and upspringingMake all the April woodsMerry with singing.Younger than we are,O children, and frailer,Soon in the blue…
And the great dead themselves, with jovial breathBid you be merry and remember death.
