" AND IF THERE'S BLOOD UPON HIS HAND, AND THE IDOLS ARE BROKE IN THE TEMPLE OF BAAL TO SHUT HER UP IN A SEPULCHRE, IN THIS KINGDOM BY THE SEA WHY WEEP YE BY THE TIDE, LADIE?' SYNE, IN THE CLEAVING OF A CRAIG THE BEARD AND THE HAIR OF THE RIVER-GOD WERE 59 76 84 97 157 165 WHEN the voices of children are heard on the green And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast, And everything else is still. Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, And the dews of night arise; Come, come, leave off play, and let us away Till the morning appears in the skies. No, no, let us play, for it is yet day, Besides in the sky the little birds fly, And the hills are all covered with sheep. Well, well, go and play till the light fades away, And then go home to bed. The little ones leap'd and shouted and laugh'd; And all the hills echoèd. W. BLAKE. B A BOY'S SONG WHERE the pools are bright and deep, Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hazel bank is steepest, Why the boys should drive away But this I know, I love to play, HOGG. I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER I I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, II I remember, I remember III I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow! |