And, all next day, the anvils rang with jigs: The bellows roared and rumbled with loud laughter, Until it seemed the workshop had gone wild, And it would echo, echo, ever after The tune the hammers tinkled on and off, A silly tune of primroses and pigs... Of all the wonders of the West He liked the pigs, he liked the pigs the best! Next night, as I went in, I caught A strange, fresh smell. The postman had just brought A precious box from Cornwall, and the shop Was lit with primroses, that lay atop A Cornish pasty, and a pot of cream: And, as, with gentle hands, the father lifted The flowers his little son had plucked for him, He stood a moment in a far-off dream, As though in glad remembrances he drifted On Western seas: and, as his eyes grew dim, He stooped, and buried them in deep, sweet bloom Till, hearing, once again, the poor child’s cough, He served her hurriedly, and sent her off, Quite happily, with thin hands filled with flowers. And, as I followed to the street, the gloom Was starred with primroses; and many hours The strange, shy flickering surprise Of that child’s keen, enchanted eyes Lit up my heart, and brightened my dull room. Then, many nights the foundry kept me late With overtime; and I was much too tired To go round by the shop; but made for bed As straight as I could go: until one night We’d left off earlier, though ’twas after eight, I thought I’d like some news about the boy. I found the shop untended; and the bell Tin-tinkle-tinkle-tinkled all in vain. And then I saw, through the half-curtained pane, The back-room was a very blaze of joy: And knew the mother and son had come safe back. And, as I slipped away, now all was well, I heard the boy shriek out, in shrill delight: "And, father, all the little pigs were black!" FLANNAN ISLE "Though three men dwell on Flannan Isle To keep the lamp alight, As we steered under the lee, we caught No glimmer through the night." A passing ship at dawn had brought The news; and quickly we set sail, To find out what strange thing might ail The keepers of the deep-sea light. The Winter day broke blue and bright, With glancing sun and glancing spray, As o’er the swell our boat made way, As gallant as a gull in flight. But, as we neared the lonely Isle; And looked up at the naked height; And saw the lighthouse towering white, With blinded lantern, that all night Had never shot a spark Of comfort through the dark, So ghostly in the cold sunlight It seemed, that we were struck the while With wonder all too dread for words.