Then--soft as a rattle a-counting her seeds In the midst of a tangle of withered-up weeds-- Came a faint, faint knocking, a rustle like silk, And a breath at the keyhole as soft as milk-- Still as the flit of a moth. And then ...

That infinitesimal knocking again.

Sam lifted his chin from his fists. He listened.

His wandering eyes in the candle glistened.

Then slowly, slowly, rolled round by degrees-- And there sat a mouse on the top of his cheese.

He stared at this Midget, and it at him, Over the edge of his mug's round rim, And--as if it were Christian--he says, "Did 'ee hear A faint little tap-tap-tap-tapping, my dear?

You was at supper and me in a maze 'Tis dark for a caller in these lone days, There's nowt in the larder. We're both of us old.

And all of my loved ones sleep under the mould, And yet--and yet--as I've told 'ee before ..."

_But if Sam's story you'd read to the end, Turn back to page 1, and press onward, dear friend; Yes, if you would stave the last note of this song, Turn back to page primus, and warble along!

For all sober records of life (come to write 'em), Are bound to continue--well--ad infinitum!_

PEAK AND PUKE

[Ill.u.s.tration]

From his cradle in the glamourie They have stolen my wee brother, Roused a changeling in his swaddlings For to fret mine own poor mother.

Pules it in the candle light Wi' a cheek so lean and white, c.h.i.n.kling up its eyne so wee, Wailing shrill at her an' me.

It we'll neither rock nor tend Till the Silent Silent send, Lapping in their waesome arms Him they stole with spells and charms, Till they take this changeling creature Back to its own fairy nature-- Cry! Cry! as long as may be, Ye shall ne'er be woman's baby!

THE CHANGELING

"Ahoy, and ahoy!"

'Twixt mocking and merry-- "Ahoy and ahoy, there, Young man of the ferry!"

She stood on the steps In the watery gloom-- That Changeling--"Ahoy, there!"

She called him to come.

He came on the green wave, He came on the grey, Where stooped that sweet lady That still summer's day.

He fell in a dream Of her beautiful face, As she sat on the thwart And smiled in her place.

No echo his oar woke, Float silent did they, Past low-grazing cattle In the sweet of the hay.

And still in a dream At her beauty sat he, Drifting stern foremost Down--down to the sea.

Come you, then: call, When the twilight apace Brings shadow to brood On the loveliest face; You shall hear o'er the water Ring faint in the grey-- "Ahoy, and ahoy, there!"

And tremble away; "Ahoy, and ahoy!..."

And tremble away.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LOB LIE BY THE FIRE

[Ill.u.s.tration]

He squats by the fire On his three-legged stool, When all in the house With slumber are full.

And he warms his great hands, Hanging loose from each knee.

And he whistles as soft As the night wind at sea.

For his work now is done; All the water is sweet; He has turned each brown loaf, And breathed magic on it.

The milk in the pan, And the bacon on beam He has "spelled" with his thumb, And bewitched has the dream.

Not a mouse, not a moth, Not a spider but sat, And quaked as it wondered What next he'd be at.

But his heart, O, his heart-- It belies his great nose; And at gleam of his eye Not a soul would suppose

He had stooped with great thumbs, And big thatched head, To tuck his small mistress More snugly in bed.

Who would think, now, a throat So lank and so thin Might make birds seem to warble In the dream she is in!

Now hunched by the fire, While the embers burn low, He nods until daybreak, And at daybreak he'll go.

Soon the first c.o.c.k will 'light From his perch and point high His beak at the Ploughboy Grown pale in the sky;

And crow will he shrill; Then, meek as a mouse, Lob will rouse up and shuffle Straight out of the house.

His supper for breakfast; For wages his work; And to warm his great hands Just an hour in the mirk.

BLUEBELLS

Where the bluebells and the wind are, Fairies in a ring I spied, And I heard a little linnet Singing near beside.

Where the primrose and the dew are-- Soon were sped the fairies all: Only now the green turf freshens, And the linnets call.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE HONEY ROBBERS

[Ill.u.s.tration]

There were two Fairies, Gimmul and Mel, Loved Earth Man's honey pa.s.sing well; Oft at the hives of his tame bees They would their sugary thirst appease.

When even began to darken to night, They would hie along in the fading light, With elf-locked hair and scarlet lips, And small stone knives to slit the skeps, So softly not a bee inside Should hear the woven straw divide.