PROUD MAISIE

Walter Scott 1771-1832

Proud Maisie is in the wood,

     Walking so early;

Sweet Robin sits on the bush,

     Singing so rarely.

"Tell me, thou bonny bird,

     When shall I marry me?"

"When six braw gentlemen 

     Kirkward shall carry ye."

"Who makes the bridal bed,

     Birdie, say truly?"

"The grey-headed sexton,

     That delves the grave duly.

"The glowworm o’er grave and stone

     Shall light thee steady;

The owl from the steeple sing,

     ‘Welcome, proud lady.’ "

-o0o-

WHEN YOU ARE OLD

W.B. Yeats 1865-1939

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, 

And nodding by the fire, take down this book, 

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look 

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; 

How many loved your moments of glad grace, 

And loved your beauty with love false or true, 

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, 

And loved the sorrows of your changing face; 

And bending down beside the glowing bars, 

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled 

And paced upon the mountains overhead 

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. 

-o0o-

ABOU BEN ADHEM

Leigh Hunt 1784-1859

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) 

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 

And saw, within the moonlight in his room, 

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, 

An angel writing in a book of gold - 

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 

And to the presence in the room he said, 

"What writest thou?" - The vision raised its head, 

And with a look made of all sweet accord, 

Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." 

"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," 

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 

But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then, 

Write me as one that loves his fellow men." 

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night 

It came again with a great wakening light, 

And showed the names whom love of God had blest, 

And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

-o0o-

THE GARDEN WHERE THE PRATIES* GROW

Johnny Patterson 1840-89

Have you ever been in love my boys

Or have you felt the pain?

I'd sooner be in jail myself

Than be in love again,

For the girl I loved was beautiful

I'd have you all to know

And I met her in the garden

Where the praties grow.

She was just the sort of creature boys

That Nature did intend

To walk right through the world my boys

Without the Grecian bend*

Nor did she wear a chignon*

I'd have you all to know

And I met her in the garden

Where the praties grow.

Says I: "My pretty Kathleen

I'm tired of single life

And if you've no objection, sure

I'll make you my sweet wife"

She answered me right modestly

And curtsied very low

"O you're welcome to the garden

Where the praties grow."

Says I: "My pretty Kathleen,

I hope that you'll agree,"

She was not like your city girls

Who say you're making free.

Says she: "I'll ask my parents

And tomorrow I'll let you know,

If you'll meet me in the garden

Where the praties grow."

O the parents they consented

And we're blessed with children three,

Two boys just like their mother

And a girl the image of me,

And now we're goin' to train them up

The way they ought to go

For to dig in the garden

Where the praties grow.

praties = potatoes

Grecian bend = A term applied to a stooped posture which became fashionable about 1820, named after the gracefully-inclined figures seen in the art of ancient Greece.

chignon = a knot or coil of hair arranged on the back of a woman's head.

The new blog A PERSONAL SCRAPBLOG is being updated today
                                                http://apersonalscrapblog.blogspot.com

-o0o-

       

I TASTE A LIQUOR NEVER BREWED

Emily Dickinson 1830-86

 I taste a liquor never brewed,

From tankards scooped in pearl;

Not all the vats upon the Rhine

Yield such an alcohol!

Inebriate of air am I,

And debauchee of dew,

Reeling, through endless summer days,

From inns of molten blue.

When the landlord turns the drunken bee

Out of the foxglove's door,

When butterflies renounce their drams,

I shall but drink the more!

Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,

And saints to windows run,

To see the little tippler

Leaning against the sun!

-o0o-

RELIANCE
Henry Van Dyke 1852-1933

Not to the swift, the race: 

Not to the strong, the fight:

Not to the righteous, perfect grace: 

Not to the wise, the light.

But often faltering feet

Come surest to the goal; 

And they who walk in darkness meet

The sunrise of the soul.

-o0o-

The new blog A PERSONAL SCRAPBLOG will be updated on Saturday
http://apersonalscrapblog.blogspot.com

=-o=0=o-

I DREAM'D IN A DREAM

Walt Whitman 1819-92

I dream’d in a dream

I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the

whole of the rest of the earth,

I dream’d that was the new city of Friends,

Nothing was greater there

than the quality of robust love, it led the rest,

It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city,

And in all their looks and words.

-o0o-