the herons, and the hounds Falling asleep I've known; all fading past me into peace. - Siegfried Sassoon SLUMBER SONG1 Sleep; and my song shall build about your bed The folding of tired wings; and peace will dwell And roses in the darkness; and my love. Siegfried Sassoon BARTER Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, 1 By permission, from Picture-Show. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company. Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Eyes that love you, arms that hold, Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; Give all you have been, or could be. Sara Teasdale THINGS Sometimes when I am at tea with you, I catch my breath At a thought that is old as the world is old It is that the spoon that you just laid down. May be here shining and insolent When you are still and cold. Your careless note that I laid away May leap to my eyes like flame, When the world has almost forgotten your voice. The golden Virgin da Vinci drew So let moth and dust corrupt and thieves For life seems only a shuddering breath, And things have a terrible permanence Aline Kilmer YOUNG AND OLD FROM The Water-Babies When all the world is young, lad, And all the trees are green; And every lass a queen; And round the world away; Young blood must have its course, lad, And every dog his day. When all the world is old, lad, And all the trees are brown; Creep home, and take your place there, God grant you find one face there, -Charles Kingsley THE THREE FISHERS Three fishers went sailing out into the West, Each thought on the woman who loved him the best; Three wives sat up in the light-house tower, And they trimm'd the lamps as the sun went down; They look'd at the squall, and they look'd at the shower, And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown! But men must work, and women must weep, Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, And the harbor bar be moaning. Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, And good-bye to the bar and its moaning. Charles Kingsley THE SANDS OF DEE "O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee!" The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam, The western tide crept up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see: The rolling mist came down and hid the land And never home came she. "Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hairA tress o' golden hair, A drowned maiden's hair Above the nets at sea? Was never salmon yet that shone so fair They row'd her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea: But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee! Charles Kingsley JOCK OF HAZELDEAN "Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? Why weep ye by the tide? I'll wed ye to my youngest son, |