Peacock Pie Part 5

NICHOLAS NYE

Thistle and darnell and dock grew there, And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to sprawl In the blazing heat of the day; Half asleep and half awake, While the birds went twittering by, And n.o.body there my lone to share But Nicholas Nye.

Nicholas Nye was lean and gray, Lame of leg and old, More than a score of donkey's years He had been since he was foaled; He munched the thistles, purple and spiked, Would sometimes stoop and sigh, And turn to his head, as if he said, "Poor Nicholas Nye!"

Alone with his shadow he'd drowse in the meadow, Lazily swinging his tail, At break of day he used to bray,-- Not much too hearty and hale; But a wonderful gumption was under his skin, And a clean calm light in his eye, And once in a while; he'd smile:-- Would Nicholas Nye.

Seem to be smiling at me, he would, From his bush in the corner, of may,-- Bony and ownerless, widowed and worn, k.n.o.bble-kneed, lonely and gray; And over the gra.s.s would seem to pa.s.s 'Neath the deep dark blue of the sky, Something much better than words between me And Nicholas Nye.

But dusk would come in the apple boughs, The green of the glow-worm s.h.i.+ne, The birds in nest would crouch to rest, And home I'd trudge to mine; And there, in the moonlight, dark with dew, Asking not wherefore nor why, Would brood like a ghost, and as still as a post, Old Nicholas Nye.

THE PIGS AND THE CHARCOAL - BURNER

The old Pig said to the little pigs, 'In the forest is truffles and mast, Follow me then, all ye little pigs, Follow me fast!'

The Charcoal-burner sat in the shade With his chin on his thumb, And saw the big Pig and the little pigs, Chuffling come.

He watched 'neath a green and giant bough, And the pigs in the ground Made a wonderful grizzling and gruzzling And a greedy sound.

And when, full-fed they were gone, and Night Walked her starry ways, He stared with his cheeks in his hands At his sullen blaze.

FIVE EYES

In Hans' old Mill his three black cats Watch the bins for the thieving rats.

Whisker and claw, they crouch in the night, Their five eyes smouldering green and bright: Squeaks from the flour sacks, squeaks from where The cold wind stirs on the empty stair, Squeaking and scampering, everywhere.

Then down they pounce, now in, now out, At whisking tail, and sniffing snout; While lean old Hans he snores away Till peep of light at break of day; Then up he climbs to his creaking mill, Out come his cats all grey with meal -- Jekkel, and Jessup, and one-eyed Jill.

GRIM

Beside the blaze of forty fires Giant Grim doth sit, Roasting a thick-woolled mountain sheep Upon an iron spit.

Above him wheels the winter sky, Beneath him, fathoms deep, Lies hidden in the valley mists A village fast asleep --- Save for one restive hungry dog That, snuffing towards the height, Smells Grim's broiled supper-meat, and spies His watch-fire twinkling bright.

t.i.t FOR TAT

Have you been catching of fish, Tom Noddy?

Have you snared a weeping hare?

Have you whistled, 'No Nunny,'and gunned a poor bunny, Or a blinded bird of the air?

Have you trod like a murderer through the green woods, Through the dewy deep dingles and glooms, While every small creature screamed shrill to Dame Nature, 'He comes --and he comes!'?

Wonder I very much do, Tom Noddy, If ever, when you are a-roam, An Ogre from s.p.a.ce will stoop a lean face And lug you home:

Lug you home over his fence, Tom Noddy, Of thorn-sticks nine yards high, With your bent knees strung round his old iron gun And your head dan-dangling by:

And hang you up stiff on a hook, Tom Noddy, From a stone-cold pantry shelf, Whence your eyes will glare in an empty stare, Till you're cooked yourself!

SUMMER EVENING

The sandy cat by the Farmer's chair Mews at his knee for dainty fare; Old Rover in his moss-greened house Mumbles a bone, and barks at a mouse In the dewy fields the cattle lie Chewing the cud 'neath a fading sky Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day.

EARTH FOLK

The cat she walks on padded claws, The wolf on the hills lays stealthy paws, Feathered birds in the rain-sweet sky At their ease in the air, flit low, flit high.

The oak's blind, tender roots pierce deep, His green crest towers, dimmed in sleep, Under the stars whose thrones are set Where never prince hath journeyed yet.

WITCHES AND FAIRIES

AT THE KEYHOLE

'Grill me some bones,' said the Cobbler, 'Some bones, my pretty Sue; I'm tired of my lonesome with heels and soles, Springsides and uppers too; A mouse in the wainscot is nibbling; A wind in the keyhole drones; And a sheet webbed over my candle, Susie, --- Grill me some bones!'

'Grill me some bones,' said the Cobbler, I sat at my tic-tac-to; And a footstep came to my door and stopped, And a hand groped to and fro; And I peered up over my boot and last; And my feet went cold as stones: I saw an eye at the keyhole, Susie! --- Grill me some bones!'

THE OLD STONE HOUSE

Nothing on the grey roof, nothing on the brown, Only a little greening where the rain drips down; n.o.body at the window, n.o.body at the door, Only a little hollow which a foot once wore; But still I tread on tiptoe, still tiptoe on I go, Past nettles, porch, and weedy well, for oh, I know A friendless face is peering, and a still clear eye Peeps closely through the cas.e.m.e.nt as my step goes by.

THE RUIN

When the last colours of the day Have from their burning ebbed away, About that ruin, cold and lone, The cricket shrills from stone to stone; And scattering o'er its darkened green, Bands of the fairies may be seen, Chattering like gra.s.shoppers, their feet Dancing a thistledown dance round it: While the great gold of the mild moon Tinges their tiny acorn shoon.

THE RIDE-BY-NIGHTS

Up on their brooms the Witches stream, Crooked and black in the crescent's gleam; One foot high, and one foot low, Bearded, cloaked, and cowled, they go, 'Neath Charlie's Wain they twitter and tweet, And away they swarm 'neath the Dragon's feet, With a whoop and a flutter they swing and sway, And surge pell-mell down the Milky Way.

Betwixt the legs of the glittering Chair They hover and squeak in the empty air.

Then round they swoop past the glimmering Lion To where Sirius barks behind huge Orion; Up, then, and over to wheel amain, Under the silver, and home again.

PEAK AND PUKE

From his cradle in the glamourie They have stolen my wee brother, Housed a changeling in his swaddlings For to fret my own poor mother.

Pules it in the candle light Wi' a cheek so lean and white, c.h.i.n.kling up its eyne so wee Wailing shrill at her an' me.

It we'll neither rock nor tend Till the Silent Silent send, Lapping in their awesome arms Him they stole with spells and charms, Till they take this changeling creature Back to its own fairy nature -- Cry! Cry! As long as may be, Ye shall ne'er be woman's baby!

THE CHANGELING