The Shepherdess 377 THE SHEPHERDESS SHE walks the lady of my delight— Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white; She guards them from the steep. She feeds them on the fragrant height, And folds them in for sleep. She roams maternal hills and bright, The chastest stars may peep. She holds her little thoughts in sight, She walks the lady of my delight A shepherdess of sheep. Alice Meynell (1853 STEPPING WESTWARD STEPPING WESTWARD "What, you are stepping westward?"—" Yea." —'Twould be a wildish destiny, If we, who thus together roam In a strange Land, and far from home, The dewy ground was dark and cold; I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound The voice was soft, and she who spake The very sound of courtesy: Its power was felt; and while my eye Before me in my endless way. William Wordsworth [1770-1850] The World 379 A FAREWELL TO ARMS (TO QUEEN ELIZABETH) His golden locks Time hath to silver turned; O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing! His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned, But spurned in vain; youth waneth by increasing: Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen; Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees; And feed on prayers, which are Age his alms: And when he saddest sits in homely cell, He'll teach his swains this carol for a song,"Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well, Curst be the souls that think her any wrong." Goddess, allow this aged man his right To be your beadsman now that was your knight. George Peele [1558?-1597?] THE WORLD THE World's a bubble, and the life of Man In his conception wretched,-from the womb, Curst from his cradle, and brought up to years Who then to frail mortality shall trust, Yet whilst with sorrow here we live oppressed, Courts are but only superficial schools To dandle fools; The rural parts are turned into a den Of savage men; And where's a city from foul vice so free, Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, Those that live single, take it for a curse, Some would have children; those that have them moan What is it, then, to have, or have no wife, Our own affections still at home to please To cross the seas to any foreign soil, Wars with their noise affright us; when they cease, -What then remains, but that we still should cry Francis Bacon [1561-1626] "WHEN THAT I WAS AND A LITTLE TINY BOY" From " Twelfth Night " WHEN that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. A Lament But when I came unto my beds, A great while ago the world begun, And we'll strive to please you every day. 381 William Shakespeare [1564-1616] OF THE LAST VERSES IN THE BOOK WHEN we for age could neither read nor write, The subject made us able to indite; The soul, with nobler resolutions decked, The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, As they draw near to their eternal home. Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view That stand upon the threshold of the new. Edmund Waller [1606-1687] A LAMENT THE NIGHT BEFORE HIS EXECUTION My prime of youth is but a frost of cares; My crop of corn is but a field of tares; |