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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2
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COTTAGE SONGS
I.—BY THE CRADLE
Close her eyes: she must not peep!
Let her little puds go slack;
Slide away far into sleep:
Sis will watch till she comes back!
Mother's knitting at the door,
Waiting till the kettle sings;
When the kettle's song is o'er
She will set the bright tea-things.
Father's busy making hay
In the meadow by the brook,
Not so very far away—
Close its peeps, it needn't look!
God is round us everywhere—
Sees the scythe glitter and rip;
Watches baby gone somewhere;
Sees how mother's fingers skip!
Sleep, dear baby; sleep outright:
Mother's sitting just behind:
Father's only out of sight;
God is round us like the wind.
II.—SWEEPING THE FLOOR
Sweep and sweep and sweep the floor,
Sweep the dust, pick up the pin;
Make it clean from fire to door,
Clean for father to come in!
Mother said that God goes sweeping,
Looking, sweeping with a broom,
All the time that we are sleeping,
For a shilling in the room:
Did he drop it out of glory,
Walking far above the birds?
Or did parson make the story
For the thinking afterwards?
If I were the swept-for shilling
I would hearken through the gloom;
Roll out fast, and fall down willing
Right before the sweeping broom!
III.—WASHING THE CLOTHES
This is the way we wash the clo'es
Free from dirt and smoke and clay!
Through and through the water flows,
Carries Ugly right away!
This is the way we bleach the clo'es:
Lay them out upon the green;
Through and through the sunshine goes,
Makes them white as well as clean!
This is the way we dry the clo'es:
Hang them on the bushes about;
Through and through the soft wind blows,
Draws and drives the wetness out!
Water, sun, and windy air
Make the clothes clean, white, and sweet
Lay them now in lavender
For the Sunday, folded neat!
IV.—DRAWING WATER
Dark, as if it would not tell,
Lies the water, still and cool:
Dip the bucket in the well,
Lift it from the precious pool!
Up it comes all brown and dim,
Telling of the twilight sweet:
As it rises to the brim
See the sun and water meet!
See the friends each other hail!
"Here you are!" cries Master Sun;
Mistress Water from the pail
Flashes back, alive with fun!
Have you not a tale to tell,
Water, as I take you home?
Tell me of the hidden well
Whence you, first of all, did come.
Of it you have kept some flavour
Through long paths of darkling strife:
Water all has still a savour
Of the primal well of life!
I.—BY THE CRADLE
Close her eyes: she must not peep!
Let her little puds go slack;
Slide away far into sleep:
Sis will watch till she comes back!
Mother's knitting at the door,
Waiting till the kettle sings;
When the kettle's song is o'er
She will set the bright tea-things.
Father's busy making hay
In the meadow by the brook,
Not so very far away—
Close its peeps, it needn't look!
God is round us everywhere—
Sees the scythe glitter and rip;
Watches baby gone somewhere;
Sees how mother's fingers skip!
Sleep, dear baby; sleep outright:
Mother's sitting just behind:
Father's only out of sight;
God is round us like the wind.
II.—SWEEPING THE FLOOR
Sweep and sweep and sweep the floor,
Sweep the dust, pick up the pin;
Make it clean from fire to door,
Clean for father to come in!
Mother said that God goes sweeping,
Looking, sweeping with a broom,
All the time that we are sleeping,
For a shilling in the room:
Did he drop it out of glory,
Walking far above the birds?
Or did parson make the story
For the thinking afterwards?
If I were the swept-for shilling
I would hearken through the gloom;
Roll out fast, and fall down willing
Right before the sweeping broom!
III.—WASHING THE CLOTHES
This is the way we wash the clo'es
Free from dirt and smoke and clay!
Through and through the water flows,
Carries Ugly right away!
This is the way we bleach the clo'es:
Lay them out upon the green;
Through and through the sunshine goes,
Makes them white as well as clean!
This is the way we dry the clo'es:
Hang them on the bushes about;
Through and through the soft wind blows,
Draws and drives the wetness out!
Water, sun, and windy air
Make the clothes clean, white, and sweet
Lay them now in lavender
For the Sunday, folded neat!
IV.—DRAWING WATER
Dark, as if it would not tell,
Lies the water, still and cool:
Dip the bucket in the well,
Lift it from the precious pool!
Up it comes all brown and dim,
Telling of the twilight sweet:
As it rises to the brim
See the sun and water meet!
See the friends each other hail!
"Here you are!" cries Master Sun;
Mistress Water from the pail
Flashes back, alive with fun!
Have you not a tale to tell,
Water, as I take you home?
Tell me of the hidden well
Whence you, first of all, did come.
Of it you have kept some flavour
Through long paths of darkling strife:
Water all has still a savour
Of the primal well of life!
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
Последний отзыв
Книгу прочитать не могу, везде ЛитРес свой нос сунул, как и где скачать полную версию бесплатно!?!?