(_O Mother y Mary Mother, Lost y lost y all lost y between Hell and Heaven!) ----D. G. Rossetti. THE BLACKBIRD'S SONG |Magdalen at Michael's gate Tirled at the pin; On Joseph's thorn, sang the blackbird, "Let her in! let her in!" "Hast thou seen the wounds?" said Michael, "Know'st thou thy sin?" "It is evening, evening," sang the blackbird, "Let her in! let her in!" "Yes I have seen the wounds, And I know my sin." "She knows it well, well, well," sang the blackbird, "Let her in! let her in!" "Thou bringest no offerings," said Michael, "Nought save sin.'' And the blackbird sang, "She is sorry, sorry, sorry, Let her in! let her in!" When he had sung himself to sleep, And night did begin, One came and opened Michael's gate, And Magdalen went in. ----H. Kingsley. MAIDEN SONG |Long ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens Upon a distant hill. One was tall Meggan, And one was dainty May, But one was fair Margaret, More fair than I can say, Long ago and long ago. When Meggan plucked the thorny rose, And when May pulled the brier, Half the birds would swoop to see, Half the beasts draw nigher; Half the fishes of the streams Would dart up to admire: And when Margaret plucked a flag-flower, Or poppy hot aflame, All the beasts, and all the birds, And all the fishes came To her hand more soft than snow. Strawberry leaves and May-dew In brisk morning air, Strawberry leaves and May-dew Make maidens fair. "I go for strawberry leaves," Meggan said one day: "Fair Margaret can bide at home, But you come with me, May; Up the hill and down the hill, Along the winding way You and I are used to go." So these two fair sisters Went with innocent will Up the hill and down again, And round the homestead hill: While the fairest sat at home, Margaret like a queen, Like a blush-rose, like the moon In her heavenly sheen, Fragrant-breathed as milky cow Or field of blossoming bean, Graceful as an ivy bough Born to cling and lean; Thus she sat to sing and sew. When she raised her lustrous eyes A beast peeped at the door; When she downward cast her eyes A fish gasped on the floor; When she turned away her eyes A bird perched on the sill, Warbling out its heart of love, Warbling warbling still, With pathetic pleadings low. Light-foot May with Meggan Sought the choicest spot, Clothed with thyme-alternate grass: Then, while day waxed hot, Sat at ease to play and rest, A gracious rest and play; The loveliest maidens near or far, When Margaret was away, Who sat at home to sing and sew. Sun-glow flushed their comely cheeks, Wind-play tossed their hair, Creeping things among the grass