Sad is the sound of weeping in the wood! Now only night is where the Pedlar was; And bleak as frost upon a quickling bud His magic steals in darkness, O alas! Why all the summer doth sweet Lettice pine? And, ere the wheat is ripe, why lies her gold Hid 'neath fresh new-plucked sprigs of eglantine? Why all the morning hath the cuckoo tolled, Sad, to and fro, in green and secret ways, With solemn bells the burden of his days? And, in the market-place, what man is this Who wears a loop of gold upon his breast, Stuck heartwise; and whose glassy flatteries Take all the townsfolk ere they go to rest Who come to buy and gossip? Doth his eye Remember a face lovely in a wood? O people! hasten, hasten, do not buy His woeful wares; the bird of grief doth brood There where his heart should be; and far away There mourns long sorrowfulness this happy day. THE OGRE 'Tis moonlight on Trebarwith Vale, And moonlight on an Ogre keen, Who, prowling hungry through the dale, A lone cottage hath seen. Small, with thin smoke ascending up, Three casements and a door-- The Ogre eager is to tap, And here seems dainty store. Sweet as a larder to a mouse, So to him staring down, Seemed the small-windowed moonlit house, With jasmine overgrown. He snorted, as the billows snort In darkness of the night; Betwixt his lean locks tawny-swart, He glowered on the sight. Into the garden sweet with peas He put his wooden shoe, And bending back the apple trees Crept covetously through; Then, stooping, with a gloating eye Stared through the lattice small, And spied two children which did lie Asleep, against the wall. Into their dreams no shadow fell Of his disastrous thumb Groping discreet, and gradual, Across the quiet room. But scarce his nail had scraped the cot Wherein these children lay, As if his malice were forgot, It suddenly did stay. For faintly in the ingle-nook He heard a cradle-song, That rose into his thoughts and woke Terror them among. For she who in the kitchen sat Darning by the fire, Guileless of what he would be at, Sang sweet as wind or wire:-- "Lullay, thou little tiny child, By-by, lullay, lullie; Jesu in glory, meek and mild, This night remember thee! "Fiend, witch, and goblin, foul and wild, He deems them smoke to be; Lullay, thou little tiny child, By-by, lullay, lullie!" The Ogre lifted up his eyes Into the moon's pale ray, And gazed upon her leopard-wise, Cruel and clear as day; He snarled in gluttony and fear-- "The wind blows dismally-- Jesu in storm my lambs be near, By-by, lullay, lullie!" And like a ravenous beast which sees The hunter's icy eye, So did this wretch in wrath confess Sweet Jesu's mastery. Lightly he drew his greedy thumb From out that casement pale, And strode, enormous, swiftly home, Whinnying down the dale. DAME HICKORY