I saw Winter 'neath a spindle tree,
She plucked berries bright to crown her head.
She was singing little robin's song
...
'What ails you that you look so pale,
O fisher of the sea?'
''Tis for a mournful tale I own,
Fair maiden Marjorie.'
...
She made roses all the day for pretty ladies' wear,
All through the patient hours, half into the night.
...
Deep in the wood's recesses cool
I see the fairy dancers glide,
In cloth of gold, in gown of green,
My lord and lady side by side.
...
The oak is a brave tree that groweth in the wood—
The oak, and the pine, and the aspen tree—
...
As I between the dusk and dark
Walked down by Hampton Towers,
I strayed upon the haunted path
In the forbidden hours.
...
O brother, brother, come down to the crags by the bay,
Come down to the caves where I play;
For oh! I saw on the rocks, asleep,
...
The ship is sinking, come ye one and all.
Stand fast and so this weakness overhaul,
Come ye strong hands and cheery voices call,
...
She saw on the far bank a golden apple,
A glowing apple, poor little Eve,
Between ran the river so darkly dapple,
...
Wrapt in the darkness of the night,
Gathering in silence on the shore,
Wild geese flown from hiding on the hills
...
All night the small feet of the rain
Within the garden ran,
And gentle fingers tapped the pane
Until the dawn began.
...
‘May I go to the field,’ said the little white rabbit,
‘Where the corn grows sweet and high?’
...
A Ballad
Father John in the green lane went
And he drew his robe full tight,
...
I shall go on the gypsies' road,
The road that has no ending;
For the sedge is brown on the lone lake side,
...
'This is an evil night to go, my sister,
To the thorn-tree across the fairy rath,
Will you not wait till Hallow Eve is over?
...
I have listened for the beat
Of slow wings across the sea.
In their strange and dumb retreat
From their foreign liberty.
...
Kine, kine, in the meadows, why do you low so piteously?
High is the grass to your knees and wet with the dew of the morn,
...
Prince Charming, when the wizard's wand
Had wrecked for aye my fairyland;
Had razed my castles to the earth,
...
Golden-throated, hath God sent thee for our comfort in the city?
Sweet, sweet! singing, singing all the day.
I said Ah, the young Spring she will l ...
...
My darling laughed in the dawning,
And the birds perched low to hear.
The quick sprung anew from dead ashes
...
Dora Sigerson (1866–1918) was an Irish poet, who after her marriage in 1895 wrote under the name Dora Sigerson Shorter. She was born in Dublin, Ireland, the daughter of George Sigerson, a surgeon and writer, and Hester (née Varian) also a writer. She was a major figure of the Irish Literary revival, publishing many collections of poetry from 1893. Her friends included Katharine Tynan, a noted Irish-born poet and author. Her husband was Clement King Shorter, an English journalist and literary critic. They lived together in London, until her death.)
A Fantasy
I saw Winter 'neath a spindle tree,
She plucked berries bright to crown her head.
She was singing little robin's song
While wild beech-leaves round and round her spread.
I ran home into my little house,
Pulled to the shutters, barred up the door;
I knelt down to blow the fire to flame,
Great dark shadows danced upon the floor.
Long-legged shadows came from corners drear,
Leaped up white walls, fell, and climbed again.
I hear North Wind pushing at the gate,
I won't open, not for wind or rain.
Oh, run home, wee ones, lest the whirling leaves
Take ye far away, fairy folk to see.
Crowning her dark hair with berries red
I saw Winter 'neath a spindle tree.
Glad I was directed here by the daily poem. Solid writer. Love the period take we get these hundred years later.
Loved these poems