Five Songs

Into the scented woods we'll go
And see the blackthorn swim in snow.
High above, in the budding leaves,
A brooding dove awakes and grieves;

The glades with mingled music stir,
And wildly laughs the woodpecker.
When blackthorn petals pearl the breeze,
There are the twisted hawthorn trees
Thickset with buds, as clear and pale
As golden water or green hail -

As if a storm of rain had stood
Enchanted in the thorny wood,
And, hearing fairy voices call,
Hung poised, forgetting how to fall.

The King of China's Daughter,
She never would love me,
Though I hung my cap and bells upon
Her nutmeg tree.
For oranges and lemons,
The stars in bright blue air
(I stole them long ago, my dear)
Were dangling there.
The Moon did give me silver pence,
The Sun did give me gold,
And both together softly blew
And made my porridge cold;
But the King of China's daughter
Pretended not to see
When I hung my cap and bells upon
The nutmeg tree.

The King of China's daughter
So beautiful to see
With her face like yellow water, left
Her nutmeg tree.
Her little rope for skipping
She kissed and gave it me --
Made of painted notes of singing-birds
Among the fields of tea.
I skipped across the nutmeg grove, --
I skipped across the sea;
But neither sun nor moon, my dear,
Has yet caught me.

         I have been here before,
              But when or how I cannot tell:
          I know the grass beyond the door,
              The sweet keen smell,
    The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

          You have been mine before, --
              How long ago I may not know:
          But just when at that swallow's soar
              Your neck turned so,
    Some veil did fall, -- I knew it all of yore.

          Has this been thus before?
              And shall not thus time's eddying flight
          Still with our lives our love restore
              In death's despite,
    And day and night yield one delight once more? 

I met a singer on the hill,
He wore a tattered cloak;
His cap was torn,
His shoes were worn,
And dreamily he spoke.
Fa la la la la la ...
Fa la la la la la.

A wrinkled face, a cheery smile,
And a nobby stick had he;
His eyes were grey and far away
And changeful as the sea.

I offered him a piece of gold
And hoped that he would stay.
No word he spoke, but shook his head
And smiled and went his way.
Fa la la la la la ...
La la la la la la.

I watched the singer down the hill.
My eyes went following after,
I thought I heard a fairy flute
And the sound of fairy laughter,
Fa la la la la la... etc.

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