V. English Countryside

"The world is all before me; I but ask

Of Nature that with which she will comply-
It is but in her summer's sun to bask,
To mingle with the quiet of her sky,
To see her gentle face without a mask
And never gaze on it with apathy."

The Child

HE little new soul is come to earth.

He has taken his staff for the pilgrim's way. His sandals are girt on his tender feet,

And he carries his scrip for what gifts he may.

What will you give to him, Fate Divine?
What for his scrip on the winding road?
A crown for his head, or a laurel wreath?
A sword to wield, or is gold his load?

What will you give him for weal or woe?
What for the journey through day and night?
Give or withhold from him power and fame,
But give to him love of the earth's delight.

Let him be lover of wind and sun

And of falling rain; and the friend of trees; With a singing heart for the pride of noon And a tender heart for what twilight sees.

Let him be lover of you and yours-
The Child and Mary; but also Pan

And the sylvan gods of the woods and hills,
And the god that is hid in his fellow man.

Love and a song and the joy of earth,
These be the gifts for his scrip to keep
Till, the journey ended, he stands at last,
In the gathering dark, at the gate of sleep.
Ethel Clifford.

Sherwood

HERWOOD in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake?

Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake;

Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the

morn,

Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy horn.

Robin Hood is here again; all his merry thieves

Hear a ghostly bugle-note, shivering through the leaves, Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,

In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June;
All the wings of fairyland were here beneath the moon;
Like a flight of rose-leaves fluttering in a mist
Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst.

Merry, merry England is waking as of old,

With eyes of blither hazel and hair of brighter gold; For Robin Hood is here again beneath the bursting spray

In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Love is in the greenwood building him a house
Of wild rose and hawthorn and honeysuckle boughs:
Love is in the greenwood: dawn is in the skies;
And Marian is waiting with a glory in her eyes.

Hark! the dazzled laverock climbs the golden steep:
Marian is waiting: is Robin Hood asleep?
Round the fairy grass-rings frolic elf and fay,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Oberon, Oberon, rake away the gold,

Rake away the red leaves, roll away the mould,

Rake away the gold leaves, roll away the red,

And wake Will Scarlett from his leafy forest bed.

Friar Tuck and Little John are riding down together With quarter-staff and drinking-can and grey goose feather;

The dead are coming back again; the years are rolled

away

In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Softly over Sherwood the south wind blows;
All the heart of England hid in every rose

Hears across the greenwood the sunny whisper leap,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?

Hark, the voice of England wakes him as of old
And, shattering the silence with a cry of brighter gold,
Bugles in the greenwood echo from the steep,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?

Where the deer are gliding down the shadowy glen
All across the glades of fern he calls his merry men;
Doublets of the Lincoln Green glancing through the
May

In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day;

Calls them and they answer; from aisles of oak and ash Rings the Follow! Follow! and the boughs begin to crash;

The ferns begin to flutter and the flowers begin to fly; And through the crimson dawning the robber band goes by.

Robin! Robin! Robin! All his merry thieves

Answer as the bugle-note shivers through the leaves; Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,

In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Alfred Noyes.