The poems of Mary HowittHowitt, Mary (Mary Botham)
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The poems of Mary Howitt
Howitt, Mary (Mary Botham)
English poetry -- 19th century
And then she swept the hearth up clean,
And then the table spread;
And next she fed the dog and bird;
And then she made the bed.
“And go now,” said the grandmother,
“Ten paces down the dell,
And bring in water for the day;
Thou know’st the lady-well!”
The first time that good Mabel went,
Nothing at all saw she,
Except a bird--a sky-blue bird--
That sate upon a tree.
The next time that good Mabel went,
There sate a lady bright
Beside the well,--a lady small,
All clothed in green and white.
A curtsey low made Mabel,
And then she stooped to fill
Her pitcher at the sparkling spring,
But no drop did she spill.
“Thou art a handy maiden,”
The fairy lady said;
“Thou hast not spilled a drop, nor yet
The fair spring troubled!
“And for this thing which thou hast done,
Yet may’st not understand,
I give to thee a better gift
Than houses or than land.
“Thou shalt do well, whate’er thou dost,
As thou hast done this day;
Shalt have the will and power to please,
And shalt be loved alway!”
Thus having said, she passed from sight,
And nought could Mabel see,
But the little bird, the sky-blue bird,
Upon the leafy tree.
--“And now go,” said the grandmother,
“And fetch in fagots dry;
All in the neigbouring fir-wood,
Beneath the trees they lie.”
Away went kind, good Mabel,
Into the fir-wood near,
Where all the ground was dry and brown,
And the grass grew thin and sere.
She did not wander up and down,
Nor yet a live branch pull,
But steadily, of the fallen boughs
She picked her apron full.
And when the wild-wood brownies
Came sliding to her mind,
She drove them thence, as she was told,
With home-thoughts sweet and kind.
But all that while the brownies
Within the fir-wood still,
They watched her how she picked the wood,
And strove to do no ill.
“And oh, but she is small and neat,”
Said one, “’twere shame to spite
A creature so demure and meek,
A creature harmless quite!”
“Look only,” said another,
“At her little gown of blue;
At the kerchief pinned about her head,
And at her little shoe!”
“Oh, but she is a comely child,”
Said a third, “and we will lay
A good-luck-penny in her path,
A boon for her this day,--
Seeing she broke no living wood;
No live thing did affray,”
With that the smallest penny,
Of the finest silver ore,
Upon the dry and slippery path,
Lay Mabel’s feet before.
With joy she picked the penny up,
The fairy penny good;
And with her fagots dry and brown
Went wondering from the wood.
“Now she has that,” said the brownies,
“Let flax be ever so dear,
Will buy her clothes of the very best
For many and many a year!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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