AN OLD SONG BY NEW SINGERS

IN THE ORIGINAL

Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow,-- And everywhere that Mary went The lamb was sure to go.

(_As Austin Dobson writes it._)

TRIOLET

A little lamb had Mary, sweet, With a fleece that shamed the driven snow.

Not alone Mary went when she moved her feet (For a little lamb had Mary, sweet), And it tagged her 'round with a pensive bleat, And wherever she went it wanted to go; A little lamb had Mary, sweet, With a fleece that shamed the driven snow.

(_As Mr. Browning has it._)

You knew her?--Mary the small, How of a summer,--or, no, was it fall?

You'd never have thought it, never believed, But the girl owned a lamb last fall.

Its wool was subtly, silky white, Color of lucent obliteration of night, Like the shimmering snow or--our Clothild's arm!

You've seen her arm--her right, I mean-- The other she scalded a-washing, I ween-- How white it is and soft and warm?

Ah, there was soul's heart-love, deep, true, and tender, Wherever went Mary, the maiden so slender, There followed, his all-absorbed pa.s.sion, inciting, That pa.s.sionate lambkin--her soul's heart delighting-- Ay, every place that Mary sought in, That lamb was sure to soon be caught in.

(_As Longfellow might have done it._)

Fair the daughter known as Mary, Fair and full of fun and laughter, Owned a lamb, a little he-goat, Owned him all herself and solely.

White the lamb's wool as the Gotchi-- The great Gotchi, driving snowstorm.

Hither Mary went and thither, But went with her to all places, Sure as brook to run to river, Her pet lambkin following with her.

(_How Andrew Lang sings it._)

RONDEAU

A wonderful la.s.s was Marie, pet.i.te, And she looked full fair and pa.s.sing sweet-- And, oh! she owned--but cannot you guess What pet can a maiden so love and caress As a tiny lamb with a plaintive bleat

And mud upon his dainty feet And a gentle veally odour of meat, And a fleece to finger and kiss and press-- White as snow?

Wherever she wandered, in lane or street, As she sauntered on, there at her feet She would find that lambkin--bless The dear!--treading on her dainty dress, Her dainty dress, fresh and neat-- White as snow!

(_Mr. Algernon C. Swinburne's idea._)

VILLANELLE

Dewy-eyed with shimmering hair, Maiden and lamb were a sight to see, For her pet was white as she was fair.

And its lovely fleece was beyond compare, And dearly it loved its Mistress Marie, Dewy-eyed, with shimmering hair.

Its warped wool was an inwove snare, To tangle her fingers in, where they could be (For her pet was white as she was fair).

Lost from sight, both so snow-white were, And the lambkin adored the maiden wee, Dewy-eyed with shimmering hair.

Th' impa.s.sioned incarnation of rare, Of limpid-eyed, luscious-lipped, loved beauty, And her pet was white as she was fair.

Wherever she wandered, hither and there, Wildly that lambkin sought with her to be, With the dewy-eyed, with shimmering hair, And a pet as white as its mistress was fair.

_A. C. Wilkie._

MORE IMPRESSIONS

LA FUITE DES OIES

To outer senses they are geese, Dull drowsing by a weedy pool; But try the impression trick. Cool! Cool!

Snow-slumbering sentinels of Peace!

Deep silence on the shadowy flood, Save rare sharp stridence (that means "quack"), Low amber light in Ariel track Athwart the dun (that means the mud).

And suddenly subsides the sun, Bulks mystic, ghostly, thrid the gloom (That means the white geese waddling home), And darkness reigns! (See how it's done?)

_Oscuro Wildgoose._

NURSERY RHYMES a LA MODE

(_Our nurseries will soon lie too cultured to admit the old rhymes in their Philistine and unaesthetic garb. They may be redressed somewhat on this model._)

Oh, but she was dark and shrill, (Hey-de-diddle and hey-de-dee!) The cat that (on the first April) Played the fiddle on the lea.

Oh, and the moon was wan and bright, (Hey-de-diddle and hey-de-dee!) The Cow she looked nor left nor right, But took it straight at a jump, pardie!

The hound did laugh to see this thing, (Hey-de-diddle and hey-de-dee!) As it was parlous wantoning, (Ah, good my gentles, laugh not ye,) And underneath a dreesome moon Two lovers fled right piteouslie; A spooney plate with a plated spoon, (Hey-de-diddle and hey-de-dee!)

POSTSCRIPT

Then blame me not, altho' my verse Sounds like an echo of C. S. C.

Since still they make ballads that worse and worse Savor of diddle and hey-de-dee.

_Unknown._

A MAUDLE-IN BALLAD

TO HIS LILY