XXXVIII WHEN WINTER icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall And milk comes frozen home in pail, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-who-a merry note ; While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-who;-a merry note ; While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. XXXIX VENERI VICTRICI LOVE, Love, nothing but Love, still more! For, O, love's bow Shoots buck and doe: The shaft confounds, Not that it wounds, But tickles still the sore. These lovers cry Oh! oh! they die ! Yet that which seems the wound to kill, Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he! So dying love lives still : Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha! Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha! -Heigh-ho! XL A SEA DIRGE FULL fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes : Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them,-Ding-dong, bell. XLI THE LOST LOVE OW should I your true-Love know Ho From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. White his shroud as the mountain snow, Larded with sweet flowers ; Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers. XLII SNATCHES I THEY bore him barefaced on the bier; And in his grave rain'd many a tear :- An you call him a-down-a. And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-bed: He never will come again. |