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Once Upon a Time and Other Child-Verses
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Quoth he: "The dearest, queerest story
Was that one of the fairy prince,
Who sailed down stream in his pearl dory,
Neath boughs of rose and flowering quince,
To save the lovely princess whom
The wicked, white-haired, old witch-lady
Kept in a tower of awful gloom,
Deep in a magic forest shady:
How proud he tossed his plumèd head
Before the witch's door, and said " —
Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Honey-sweet the clover's
blowing
Ba-a, ba-a! Juicy-green the grass is
growing.
"I think," quoth she, "there's one that's
better:
About that little fairy girl,
Who bound the ogre with a fetter
Of spiderwort and grass and pearl;
Then singing in the gateway sat,
Till up the road the prince came prancing,
A jewelled feather in his hat,
And set the cherry-boughs a-dancing.
How low he bent his handsome head
Before the fairy girl, and said " —
Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Who the day so sweetly
passes
As a lamb who never stops,
But from dawn to twilight crops
Clover-heads and dewy grasses?
"Well, by and by I think I'll be
A fairy prince as brave as he:
I'll wind a silver bugle clear,
Low and dim you'll hear it, dear;
A sword with jewelled hilt I'll bear,
A cap and heron-plume I'll wear,
And I will rescue you," quoth
he.
"Fast to the witch's tower I'll
And beat upon the gate, and
cry
Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Sweet the
simple life we're leading,
In the sweet green pasture
feeding!
Then quoth the little reader
fair.
"I've changed my mind, for I don't dare
To stay there in the witch's tower;
I'll be the dame who found a flower
Of gold and rubies – in the tale —
And sold it for a fairy veil,
Which made her look so sweet and true
That she was dearly loved; then you " —
Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Turn the juicy morsel over.
Who would be a lad or lass,
If he could his summer pass
As the sheep amongst the clover?
Grasshoppers on daisies teeter,
Dew-drops clovers sweeten sweeter.
Who can care for stupid tales,
Fairy horns and f airy veils,
Fairy princess, fairy prince?
Yet we must not blame them, since
( Turn the juicy morsel over)
They cannot be sheep in clover.
THE BALLAD OF THE BLACK-SMITH'S SONS
I
CLING, clang, – "Whoa, my bonny gray
mare!
Whoa," – cling, clang, – "my bay!
But the black and the sorrel must stay unshod,
While my two fair sons are away."
II
While the blacksmith spake, his fair sons
came,
And stood in the smithy door —
"Now where have ye been, my two fair sons,
For your father has missed ye sore? "
III
Then pleasantly spake the younger son,
With the eyes of dreamy blue:
"O Father, we've been in a land as bright
As the glint o' the morning dew! "
IV
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