Down-adown-derry, Her cheeks were like wine, Her eyes in her wee face Like water-sparks shine, Her niminy fingers Her sleek tresses preen, The which in the combing She peeps out between; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, Shrill, shrill was her tune:-- "Come to my water-house, Annie Maroon: Come in your dimity, Ribbon on head, To wear siller seaweed And coral instead"; Singing down-adown-derry.

"Down-adown-derry, Lean fish of the sea, Bring lanthorns for feasting The gay Faerie; 'Tis sand for the dancing, A music all sweet In the water-green gloaming For thistledown feet"; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, Sweet Annie Maroon Looked large on the fairy Curled wan as the moon And all the grey ripples To the Mill racing by, With harps and with timbrels Did ringing reply; Singing down-adown-derry.

"Down-adown-derry,"

Sang the Fairy of Doone, Piercing the heart Of Sweet Annie Maroon; And lo! when like roses The clouds of the sun Faded at dusk, gone Was Annie Maroon; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, The daisies are few; Frost twinkles powdery In haunts of the dew; And only the robin Perched on a thorn, Can comfort the heart Of a father forlorn; Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry, There's snow in the air; Ice where the lily Bloomed waxen and fair; He may call o'er the water, Cry--cry through the Mill, But Annie Maroon, alas!

Answer ne'er will; Singing down-adown-derry.

WITCHES AND WITCHCRAFT

THE HARE

In the black furrow of a field I saw an old witch-hare this night; And she c.o.c.ked a lissome ear, And she eyed the moon so bright, And she nibbled of the green; And I whispered "Wh-s-st! witch-hare,"

Away like a ghostie o'er the field She fled, and left the moonlight there.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

I SAW THREE WITCHES

[Ill.u.s.tration]

I saw three witches That bowed down like barley, And straddled their brooms 'neath a louring sky, And, mounting a storm-cloud, Aloft on its margin, Stood black in the silver as up they did fly.

I saw three witches That mocked the poor sparrows They carried in cages of wicker along, Till a hawk from his eyrie Swooped down like an arrow, Smote on the cages, and ended their song.

I saw three witches That sailed in a shallop, All turning their heads with a snickering smile, Till a bank of green osiers Concealed their grim faces, Though I heard them lamenting for many a mile.

I saw three witches Asleep in a valley, Their heads in a row, like stones in a flood, Till the moon, creeping upward, Looked white through the valley, And turned them to bushes in bright scarlet bud.

THE ISLE OF LONE

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Three dwarfs there were which lived in an isle, And the name of that Isle was Lone, And the names of the dwarfs were Alliolyle, Lallerie, Muziomone.

Alliolyle was green of een, Lallerie light of locks, Muziomone was mild of mien, As ewes in April flocks.

Their house was small and sweet of the sea, And pale as the Malmsey wine; Their bowls were three, and their beds were three, And their nightcaps white were nine.

Their beds they were made of the holly-wood, Their combs of the tortoise's sh.e.l.l, Three basins of silver in corners there stood, And three little ewers as well.

Green rushes, green rushes lay thick on the floor, For light beamed a gobbet of wax; There were three wooden stools for whatever they wore On their humpity-dumpity backs.

So each would lie on a drowsy pillow And watch the moon in the sky-- And hear the parrot scream to the billow, The billow roar reply:

Parrots of sapphire and sulphur and amber, Scarlet, and flame, and green, While five-foot apes did scramble and clamber, In the feathery-tufted treen.

All night long with bubbles a-glisten The ocean cried under the moon, Till ape and parrot, too sleepy to listen, To sleep and slumber were gone.

Then from three small beds the dark hours' while In a house in the Island of Lone Rose the snoring of Lallerie, Alliolyle, The snoring of Muziomone.

But soon as ever came peep of sun On coral and feathery tree, Three nightcapped dwarfs to the surf would run And soon were a-bob in the sea.

At six they went fishing, at nine they snared Young foxes in the dells, At noon on sweet berries and honey they fared, And blew in their twisted sh.e.l.ls.

Dark was the sea they gambolled in, And thick with silver fish, Dark as green gla.s.s blown clear and thin To be a monarch's dish.

They sate to sup in a jasmine bower, Lit pale with flies of fire, Their bowls the hue of the iris-flower, And lemon their attire.

Sweet wine in little cups they sipped, And golden honeycomb Into their bowls of cream they dipped, Whipt light and white as foam.

Now Alliolyle, where the sand-flower blows, Taught three old apes to sing-- Taught three old apes to dance on their toes And caper around in a ring.

They yelled them hoa.r.s.e and they croaked them sweet, They twirled them about and around, To the noise of their voices they danced with their feet, They stamped with their feet on the ground.

But down to the sh.o.r.e skipped Lallerie, His parrot on his thumb, And the twain they scritched in mockery, While the dancers go and come.

And, alas! in the evening, rosy and still, Light-haired Lallerie Bitterly quarrelled with Alliolyle By the yellow-sanded sea.

The rising moon swam sweet and large Before their furious eyes, And they rolled and rolled to the coral marge Where the surf for ever cries.

Too late, too late, comes Muziomone: Clear in the clear green sea Alliolyle lies not alone, But clasped with Lallerie.

He blows on his sh.e.l.l plaintive notes; Ape, parraquito, bee Flock where a shoe on the salt wave floats,-- The shoe of Lallerie.

He fetches nightcaps, one and nine, Grey apes he dowers three, His house as fair as the Malmsey wine Seems sad as cypress-tree.