To be a pilgrim on the nether earth. 66 Twine ye, twine the mystic threads around him; Twine ye, twine, till the fast, firm fate surround him Till the firm, cold fate hath bound him, Which bindeth all before their birth Down upon the nether earth." TO MEMORY. COME to me often, sportive Memory; Thy hands are full of flowers, thy voice is sweet, I cannot let thee flit unheeded by, For I have gentle words wherewith to greet And playest round me in the fairy night, A CHURCHYARD PICTURE. SLOWLY and softly let the music go As ye wind upwards to the grey church tower, Check the shrill hautboy, let the pipe breathe lowTread lightly on the path-side daisy flower. For she ye carry was a gentle bud, Loved by the unsunn'd drops of silver dew; Look forth: 't is said the world is growing old,— You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow 'll be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. There's many a black black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine; There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline : o' the May. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see, day, But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen. o' the May. He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white, And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light. They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be: Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the Green, And o' the May. The honeysuckle round the porch has wov'n its wavy bowers, And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo flowers; And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows grey, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow grass, And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the live-long day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.. All the valley, mother, 'll be fresh and green and still, So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, To-morrow 'll be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; To-morrow 'll be of all the year the maddest merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. |