Читать книгу Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages онлайн

47 страница из 152

You pretty elves, amongst yourselves

Sing my fair Love good morrow!

To give my Love good morrow

Sing, birds, in every furrow!

Thomas Heywood

ssss1

I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,

Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,

And gentle odours led my steps astray,

Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring

Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay

Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling

Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,

But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,

Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,

The constellated flower that never sets;

Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth

The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—

Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—

Its mother's face with heaven's collected tears,

When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,

Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured May

And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine