THE FIELD MOUSE

HEN the moon shines o'er the corn
And the beetle drones his horn,

And the flittermice swift fly,

And the nightjars swooping cry,

And the young hares run and leap,
We waken from our sleep.

And we climb with tiny feet

And we munch the green corn sweet

With startled eyes for fear

The white owl should fly near,
Or long slim weasel spring
Upon us where we swing.

We do no hurt at all;
Is there not room for all
Within the happy world?
All day we lie close curled
In drowsy sleep, nor rise
Till through the dusky skies
The moon shines o'er the corn

And the beetle drones his horn.

WILLIAM SHARP

C

THE FORSAKEN MERMAN

OME, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below.

Now my brothers call from the bay,
Now the great winds shoreward blow,
Now the salt tides seaward flow;
Now the wild white horses play,
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
Children dear, let us away.
This way, this way.

Call her once before you go,

Call once yet.

In a voice that she will know:

"Margaret! Margaret!"

Children's voices should be dear
(Call once more) to a mother's ear;
Children's voices, wild with pain.
Surely she will come again.
Call her once, and come away;
This way, this way!

"Mother dear, we cannot stay.

The wild white horses foam and fret." "Margaret! Margaret!"

Come, dear children, come away down;

Call no more.

One last look at the white-walled town,

And the little grey church on the windy shore;
Then come down.

She will not come, though you call all day;
Come away, come away.

Children dear, was it yesterday

We heard the sweet bells over the bay?
In the caverns where we lay,

Through the surf and through the swell,
The far-off sound of a silver bell?
Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,
Where the winds are all asleep;

Where the spent lights quiver and gleam,
Where the salt weed sways in the stream,
Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,
Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground;
Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,
Dry their mail and bask in the brine;
Where great whales come sailing by,
Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Round the world for ever and aye?
When did music come this way?
Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, was it yesterday

(Call yet once) that she went away?

Once she sate with you and me,

On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,

And the youngest sate on her knee.

She combed its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of a far-off bell.

She sighed, she looked up through the clear green

sea;

She said, "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray

In the little grey church on the shore today. 'Twill be Easter-time in the world-ah me! And I lose my poor soul, merman, here with thee." I said, "Go up, dear heart, through the waves; Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind seacaves."

She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, were we long alone?

The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; "Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say. Come," I said; and we rose through the surf in the

bay.

We went up the beach, by the sandy down

Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-walled

town;

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still,

To the little grey church on the windy hill.

From the church came a murmur of folk at their

prayers,

But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. We climbed on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,

And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded

panes.

She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear;
"Margaret, hist! Come quick, we are here!
Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone;
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.'
But, ah! She gave me never a look,
For her eyes were sealed to the holy book.
Loud prays the priest, shut stands the door.
Come away, children, call no more.

Come away, come down, call no more.

Down, down, down.

Down to the depths of the sea.

She sits at her wheel in the humming town,

Singing most joyfully.