Andrew Lang Poems
HE sat among the woods; he heard
The sylvan merriment; he saw
The pranks of butterfly and bird,
The humors of the ape, the daw.
And in the lion or the frog,—
In all the life of moor and fen,—
In ass and peacock, stork and dog,
He read similitudes of men.
“Of these, from those,” he cried, “we come,
Our hearts, our brains descend from these.”
And, lo! the Beasts no more were dumb,
But answered out of brakes and trees:
“Not ours,” they cried; “Degenerate,
If ours at all,” they cried again,
“Ye fools, who ...
A Scot To Jeanne D’arc
DARK Lily without blame,
Not upon us the shame,
Whose sires were to the Auld Alliance true;
They, by the Maiden’s side,
Victorious fought and died;
One stood by thee that fiery torment through,
Till the White Dove from thy pure lips had passed,
And thou wert with thine own St. Catherine at the last.