At the Back of the North Wind

She sat down to cry, and look up at the sky,   But she cried herself asleep.

And as she slept the dew fell fast,
And the wind blew from the sky;
And strange things took place that shun the day’s face,
Because they are sweet and shy.

Nibble, nibble, crop!  she heard as she woke:
A hundred little lambs
Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet
That grew in the trails of their dams.

Little Bo Peep caught up her crook,
And wiped the tears that did blind her.
And nibble, nibble crop! without a stop!
The lambs came eating behind her.

Home, home she came, both tired and lame,
With three times as many sheep.
In a month or more, they’ll be as big as before,
And then she’ll laugh in her sleep.

But what would you say, if one fine day,
When they’ve got their bushiest tails,
Their grown up game should be just the same,
And she have to follow their trails?

Never weep, Bo Peep, though you lose your sheep,
And do not know where to find them;
‘Tis after the sun the mothers have run,
And there are their lambs behind them.

I confess again to having touched up a little, but it loses far more in Diamond’s sweet voice singing it than it gains by a rhyme here and there.

Some of them were out of books Mr. Raymond had given him. These he always knew, but about the others he could seldom tell. Sometimes he would say, “I made that one.” but generally he would say, “I don’t know; I found it somewhere;” or “I got it at the back of the north wind.”

One evening I found him sitting on the grassy slope under the house, with his Dulcimer in his arms and his little brother rolling on the grass beside them. He was chanting in his usual way, more like the sound of a brook than anything else I can think of. When I went up to them he ceased his chant.

“Do go on, Diamond. Don’t mind me,” I said.

He began again at once. While he sang, Nanny and Jim sat a little way off, one hemming a pocket-handkerchief, and the other reading a story to her, but they never heeded Diamond. This is as near what he sang as I can recollect, or reproduce rather.

What would you see if I took you up
To my little nest in the air?
You would see the sky like a clear blue cup
Turned upside downwards there.

What would you do if I took you there
To my little nest in the tree?
My child with cries would trouble the air,
To get what she could but see.

What would you get in the top of the tree
For all your crying and grief?
Not a star would you clutch of all you see—
You could only gather a leaf.

But when you had lost your greedy grief,
Content to see from afar,
You would find in your hand a withering leaf,
In your heart a shining star.

As Diamond went on singing, it grew very dark, and just as he ceased there came a great flash of lightning, that blinded us all for a moment. Dulcimer crowed with pleasure; but when the roar of thunder came after it, the little brother gave a loud cry of terror. Nanny and Jim came running up to us, pale with fear. Diamond’s face, too, was paler than usual, but with delight. Some of the glory seemed to have clung to it, and remained shining.

“You’re not frightened—are you, Diamond?” I said.

“No. Why should I be?” he answered with his usual question, looking up in my face with calm shining eyes.

“He ain’t got sense to be frightened,” said Nanny, going up to him and giving him a pitying hug.

“Perhaps there’s more sense in not being frightened, Nanny,” I returned. “Do you think the lightning can do as it likes?”

“It might kill you,” said Jim.

“Oh, no, it mightn’t!” said Diamond.

As he spoke there came another great flash, and a tearing crack.

“There’s a tree struck!” I said; and when we looked round, after the blinding of the flash had left our eyes, we saw a huge bough of the beech-tree in which was Diamond’s nest hanging to the ground like the broken wing of a bird.

“There!” cried Nanny; “I told you so. If you had been up there you see what would have happened, you little silly!”

“No, I don’t,” said Diamond, and began to sing to Dulcimer. All I could hear of the song, for the other children were going on with their chatter, was—

The clock struck one,
And the mouse came down.
Dickery, dickery, dock!

Then there came a blast of wind, and the rain followed in straight-pouring lines, as if out of a watering-pot. Diamond jumped up with his little Dulcimer in his arms, and Nanny caught up the little boy, and they ran for the cottage. Jim vanished with a double shuffle, and I went into the house.

When I came out again to return home, the clouds were gone, and the evening sky glimmered through the trees, blue, and pale-green towards the west, I turned my steps a little aside to look at the stricken beech. I saw the bough torn from the stem, and that was all the twilight would allow me to see. While I stood gazing, down from the sky came a sound of singing, but the voice was neither of lark nor of nightingale: it was sweeter than either: it was the voice of Diamond, up in his airy nest:—

The lightning and thunder,
They go and they come;
But the stars and the stillness
Are always at home.

And then the voice ceased.

“Good-night, Diamond,” I said.