We daren't go a-hunting Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather! William Allingham T FAERIES' SONG FROM The Land Of Heart's Desire HE wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away, While the faeries dance in a place apart, Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing Of a land where even the old are fair, And even the wise are merry of tongue; But I heard a reed of Coolaney say, "When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung, The lonely of heart is withered away." William Butler Yeats WE WHERE THE BEE SUCKS HERE the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. Shakespeare OVER HILL, OVER DALE VER hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, YOU SPOTTED SNAKES OU spotted snakes, with double tongue, You Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong; Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby; Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So good-night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here; Philomel, with melody. Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby: Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So good-night, with lullaby. Shakespeare COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS NOME unto these yellow sands, COME And then take hands: Court'sied when you have and kiss'd, Foot it featly here and there, And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear: Hark, hark! Bow-wow. The watchdog's bark: Bow-wow. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. Shakespeare FULL FATHOM FIVE ULL fathom five thy father lies; FULL Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them Ding-dong, bell! Shakespeare THE LADY OF SHALOTT I N either side the river lie ΟΝ Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, And the silent isle imbowers By the margin, willow-veil'd, Skimming down to Camelot : Only reapers, reaping early II There she weaves by night and day A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, And moving thro' a mirror clear |