On a Midsummer Eve

I IDLY cut a parsley stalk,And blew therein towards the moon;I had not thought what ghosts would walkWith shivering footsteps to my tune.

I went, and knelt, and scooped my handAs if to drink, into the brook,And a faint figure seemed to standAbove me, with the bygone look.

I lipped rough rhymes of chance, not choice,I thought not what my words might be;There came into my ear a voiceThat turned a tenderer verse for me.

(Written to an old folk-tune)

LALAGE’S coming:Where is she now, O?Turning to bow, O,And smile, is she,Just at parting,Parting, parting,As she is startingTo come to me?

Where is she now, O,Now, and now, O,Shadowing a bough, O,Of hedge or treeAs she is rushing,Rushing, rushing,Gossamers brushingTo come to me?

Lalage’s coming;Where is she now, O;Climbing the brow, O,Of hills I see?Yes, she is nearing,Nearing, nearing,Weather unfearingTo come to me.

Near is she now, O,Now, and now, O;Milk the rich cow, O,Forward the tea;Shake the down bed for her,Linen sheets spread for her,Drape round the head for herComing to me.

Lalage’s coming,She’s nearer now, O,End anyhow, O,To-day’s husbandry!Would a gilt chair were mine,Slippers of vair were mine,Brushes for hair were mineOf ivory!

What will she think, O,She who’s so comely,Viewing how homelyA sort are we!Nothing resplendent,No prompt attendant,Not one dependentPertaining to me!

Lalage’s coming;Where is she now, O?Fain I’d avow, O,Full honestlyNought here’s enough for her,All is too rough for her,Even my love for herPoor in degree.

She’s nearer now, O,Still nearer now, O,She ’tis, I vow, O,Passing the lea.Rush down to meet her there,Call out and greet her there,Never a sweeter thereCrossed to me!

Lalage’s come; aye,Come is she now, O! . . .Does Heaven allow, O,A meeting to be?Yes, she is here now,Here now, here now,Nothing to fear now,Here’s Lalage!