Poems by Eugene Field

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Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,
May the man who has cruelly murdered his sire--
Republicans of differing views
I'm weary of this weather and I hanker for the ways
Come, brothers, share the fellowship
There are two stars in yonder steeps
Her nature is the sea's, that smiles to-night
The image of the moon at night
The stars are twinkling in the skies,
Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name;
How happens it, my cruel miss,
(LYRIC INTERMEZZO)
Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,
Why, Mistress Chloe, do you bother
Since Chloe is so monstrous fair,
I cannot eat my porridge,
Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awaye
If our own life is the life of a flower
See, Thaliarch mine, how, white with snow,
Now stands Soracte white with snow, now bend the laboring trees,
One asketh:
Mæcenas, you will be my death,--though friendly you profess yourself,--
You ask me, friend,
Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell
Your gran'ma, in her youth, was quite
When Father Time swings round his scythe,
My books are on their shelves again
Lie in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn,--
The Northland reared his hoary head
Krinken was a little child--
Lyce, the gods have heard my prayers, as gods will hear the dutiful,
'Tis the time of the year's sundown, and flame
(The exile Meliboeus finds Tityrus in possession of his own farm, restored to him by the emperor Augustus, and a conversation ensues. The poem is in praise of Augustus, peace and pastoral life.)
To bear the yoke not yet your love's submissive neck is bent,
Dear, noble friend! a virgin cask
Little eyelids, cease your winking;
O Lady Fortune! 't is to thee I call,
Full many a sinful notion
As beats the sun from mountain crest,
Welcome, O truant stork!
Play that you are mother dear,
What gods or heroes, whose brave deeds none can dispute,
I thought myself indeed secure,
A little boy whose name was Tim
Prudence Mears hath an old blue plate
I say, as one who never feared
There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called,
I
Misery is my lot,
[JANUARY, 1814]
Still serve me in my age, I pray,
As I was going to Bethlehem-town,
On afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap,
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
Carol of the Christmas morn--
Oh, them days on Red Hoss Mountain, when the skies wuz fair 'nd blue,
O mother-my-love, if you'll give me your hand,
Chloris, my friend, I pray you your misconduct to forswear;
Oh, hush thee, little Dear-my-Soul,
Sing, Christmas bells!
Sing, Christmas bells!
The angel host that sped last night,
I count my treasures o'er with care.--
God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,
God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,
In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare
Should painter attach to a fair human head
Happy the man that, when his day is done,
Once on a time an old red hen
Tiddle-de-dumpty, tiddle-de-dee--
Out on the mountain over the town,
Though care and strife
He placed a rose in my nut-brown hair--
Why do the bells of Christmas ring?
How cool and fair this cellar where
Dear wife, last midnight while I read
TO MISS GRACE KING
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Ed was a man that played for keeps, 'nd when he tuk the notion,
Grim is the face that looks into the night
Prince, show me the quickest way and best
So, come! though favors I bestow
The day is done; and, lo! the shades
'Tis years, soubrette, since last we met,
The Greeks had genius,--'t was a gift
There once was a bird that lived up in a tree,
Fisherman Jim lived on the hill
If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I,
When our babe he goeth walking in his garden,
I like the Anglo-Saxon speech
There's a dear little home in Good-Children street -
Of mornings, bright and early,
There is a certain Yankee phrase
Shall I woo the one or other?
Strange that the city thoroughfare,
HORACE
Fuscus, whoso to good inclines--
As forth he pours the new made wine,
'Tis spring! the boats bound to the sea;
O fountain of Blandusia,
Be tranquil, Dellius, I pray;
O fountain of Bandusia,
Come, Phyllis, I've a cask of wine
If ever in the sylvan shade
How breaks my heart to hear you say
Lofty and enduring is the monument I've reared,--
Come, Phyllis, I've a cask of wine
What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah,
Sailor.
What end the gods may have ordained for me,
Why do you shun me, Chloe, like the fawn,
I used to think that luck wuz luck and nuthin' else but luck--
Sweet, bide with me and let my love
How calm, how beauteous and how cool--
(FROM THE GERMAN OF MARTIN LUTHER)
Through sleet and fogs to the saline bogs
'Twas in the Crescent City not long ago befell
'Twas in the Crescent city not long ago befell
(HORACE'S ODES, III, I)
The fire upon the hearth is low,
'T is spring! The boats bound to the sea;
The western breeze is springing up, the ships are in the bay,
When thou dost eat from off this plate,
In Mrs. Potter's latest play
Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,--
Some men affect a liking
When I remark her golden hair
Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
To-day I strayed in Charing Cross as wretched as could be
'T is when the lark goes soaring
Krinken was a little child,--
When the busy day is done,
In maudlin spite let Thracians fight
Little All-Aloney's feet
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
Ho, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin doo?
This talk about the journalists that run the East is bosh,
Little Miss Brag has much to say
See, what a wonderful garden is here,
Last night, whiles that the curfew bell ben ringing,
I once knew all the birds that came
All human joys are swift of wing
Many a beauteous flower doth spring
Fair is the castle up on the hill--
When I was a boy at college,
(FOR THE FELLOWSHIP CLUB)
I
The mountain brook sung lonesomelike, and loitered on its way
The mountain brook sung lonesomelike
Away down East where I was reared amongst my Yankee kith,
Come hither, lyttel childe, and lie upon my breast to-night,
The eastern sky is streaked with red,
O Nicias, not for us alone
One night a tiny dewdrop fell
(EGYPTIAN FOLK-SONG)
Thar showed up out'n Denver in the spring uv '81
The wind comes whispering to me of the country green and cool--
As once I rambled in the woods
Good old days--dear old days
The sky is dark and the hills are white
I am not rich, and yet my wealth
Hush, bonnie, dinna greit;
I'm thinking of the wooing
A moonbeam floateth from the skies,
When in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,
The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv,
Us two wuz boys when we fell out,--
Over the hills and far away,
They told me once that Pan was dead,
It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
Friend, by the way you hump yourself you're from the States, I know,
Of your love for your handmaid you need feel no shame.
Achievin' sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote
The hero of
SAILOR
I ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice,
Shuffle-shoon and Amber-Locks
Hush, little one, and fold your hands;
I'd not complain of Sister Jane, for she was good and kind,
So, so, rock-a-by so!
"Sweetheart, take this," a soldier said,
Last night, my darling, as you slept,
Star of the East, that long ago
Star of the East, that long ago
Prate, ye who will, of so-called charms you find across the sea--
Nay, why discuss this summer heat,
Suppose, my dear, that you were I
Sweet little fairy,
Swing high and swing low
XXIII.
Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles
Now lithe and listen, gentles all,
Speakin' of dorgs, my bench-legged fyce
The women-folk are like to books,--
The women folk are like to books--
Keep me, I pray, in wisdom's way
The Blue and the Gray collided one day
Once on a time a friend of mine prevailed on me to go
A bottle tree bloometh in Winkyway land -
Who should come up the road one day
To the willows of the brookside
I looked in the brook and saw a face -
The gods let slip that fiendish grip
What conversazzhyonies wuz I really did not know,
When all around from out the ground
When baby wakes of mornings,
Last night, as my dear babe lay dead,
"Give me my bow," said Robin Hood,
Up yonder in Buena Park
In an ocean, 'way out yonder
Down south there is a curio-shop
I hear Thy voice, dear Lord;
The little French doll was a dear little doll
When the world is fast asleep,
Two dreams came down to earth one night
I'm a beautiful red, red drum,
The gingham dog and the calico cat
The year has been a tedious one--
A flimflam flopped from a fillamaloo,
Of all the gracious gifts of Spring,
Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse -
Good editor Dana--God bless him, we say--
It's when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks,
Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles
Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles
The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet song
A tortuous double iron track; a station here, a station there;
I'd like to be a cowboy an' ride a fiery hoss
A little peach in the orchard grew,--
The clock was in ill humor; so was the vase. It was all on account of the little shoe that had been placed on the mantel-piece that day, and had done nothing but sigh dolorously all the afternoon and evening.
I love the lyric muse!
Sometime there ben a lyttel boy
Thar showed up out 'n Denver in the spring of '81
Now lithe and listen, gentles all,
Have you ever heard the wind go "Yooooo"?
Jest as atween the awk'ard lines a hand we love has penn'd
The dull world clamors at my feet
Out of the woods by the creek cometh a calling for Peter,
Mæcenas, I propose to fly
Boy, I detest the Persian pomp;
HE
HORACE
Play that my knee was a calico mare
No more your needed rest at night
The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street
Come, my little one, with me!
Out yonder in the moonlight, wherein God's Acre lies,
My baby slept--how calm his rest,
A sunbeam comes a-creeping
When I am in New York, I like to drop around at night,
Last night the Stork came stalking,
Way up at the top of a big stack of straw
From out Cologne there came three kings
I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,
Speaking of banks, I'm bound to say
It is very aggravating
My Shepherd is the Lord my God,--
In yonder old cathedral
There were two little skeezucks who lived in the isle
Deere Chryste, let not the cheere of earth,
Upon a mountain height, far from the sea,
(THE TALE)
(ALASKAN BALLAD)
O hapless day! O wretched day!
You, blatant coward that you are,
O gracious jar,--my friend, my twin,
And thou, twin orbs of love and joy!
'Tis years, soubrette, since last we met;
Aha! a traitor in the camp,
Not to lament that rival flame
Grieve not, my Albius, if thoughts of Glycera may haunt you,
Fuscus, whoso to good inclines,
If for your oath broken, or word lightly spoken,
Why do you shun me, Chloe, like the fawn,
Chloe, you shun me like a hind
Cinna, the great Venusian told
Dear Miller: You and I despise
O virgin, tri-formed goddess fair,
There--let thy hands be folded
The cruel mother of the Loves,
You vain, self-conscious little book,
If ever in the sylvan shade
Whereas, good friend, it doth appear
What end the gods may have ordained for me,
Seek not, Leuconöe, to know how long you're going to live yet,
Though mighty in Love's favor still,
O Cruel fair,
Tell me, Lydia, tell me why,
When, Lydia, you (once fond and true,
When praising Telephus you sing
Come, dear old friend, and with us twain
A dying mother gave to you
Lofty and enduring is the monument I've reared:
What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah,
What dainty boy with sweet perfumes bedewed
O mother Venus, quit, I pray,
Mæcenas, thou of royalty's descent,
Than you, O valued friend of mine,
A sorry life, forsooth, these wretched girls are undergoing,
Come, Phyllis, I've a cask of wine
Sweet Phyllis, I have here a jar of old and precious wine,
Pompey, what fortune gives you back
O Postumus, my Postumus, the years are gliding past,
To Scythian and Cantabrian plots,
Be tranquil, Dellius, I pray;
I see you, Maister Bawsy-brown,
O fountain of Bandusia!
O fountain of Bandusia! more glittering than glass,
O ship of state
Venus, dear Cnidian-Paphian queen!
There are two phrases, you must know,
I
Yonder stands the hillside chapel
There were three cavaliers that went over the Rhine,
Into the woods three huntsmen came,
There were three cavaliers, all handsome and true,
Who I am I shall not say,
Up in the attic where I slept
The ferny places gleam at morn,
Ovarus mine,
(A BALLAD IN THE ANGLO-SAXON TONGUE)
Of all the opry-houses then obtaining in the West
How trifling shall these gifts appear
Where wail the waters in their flaw

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