English

HERE ,
With my beer
I sit,
While golden moments flit:
Alas!
They pass
Unheeded by:
And, as they fly,
I,
Being dry,
Sit, idly sipping here
My beer.

O, finer far
Than fame, or riches, are
The graceful smoke-wreaths of this free cigar!
Why
Should I
Weep, wail, or sigh?
What if luck has passed me by?
What if my hopes are dead, —
My pleasures fled?
Have I not still
My fill
Of right good cheer, —
Cigars and beer?

Here where the taut wave hangs
Its tented tons, we steer
Through rocking arch of eye
And creaking reach of ear,
Anchored to flying sky,
And chained to changing fear.

O when shall we, all spent,
Row in to some far strand,
And find, to our content,
The original land
From which our boat once went,
Though not the one we planned.

Us on that happy day
This fierce sea will release,
On our rough face of clay,
The final glaze of peace.
Our oars we all will lay
Down, and desire will cease.

Here , where the breath of the scented-gorse floats through the sun-stained air,
On a steep hill-side, on a grassy ledge, I have lain hours long and heard
Only the faint breeze pass in a whisper like a prayer,
And the river ripple by and the distant call of a bird.

On the lone hill-side, in the gold sunshine, I will hush me and repose,
And the world fades into a dream and a spell is cast on me;
And what was all the strife about, for the myrtle or the rose,
And why have I wept for a white girl's paleness passing ivory!

Here we go up, up, up,
And here we go down, down, downy,
And here we go backwards and forwards,
And here we go round, round, roundy.

Here we go a-walking, so softly, so softly,
Down the world, round the world, back to London town,
To see the waters and the whales, the emus and the mandarins,
To see the Chinese mandarins, each in a silken gown.

Here we go a-walking, so softly, so softly,
Through the vast Atlantic waves, back to London town,
To see the ships made whole again that sank below the tempest,
The Trojan and Phoenician ships that long ago went down.
And there are sailors keeping watch on many a Roman galley,

Here we come a-haying,
A-haying, a-haying,
Here we come a-haying,
Among the leaves so green.

Up and down the mower goes
All the long field over,
Cutting down the long green grass,
And the purple clover.

Toss the hay and turn it,
Laid in rows so neatly,
Summer sun a-shining down,
Makes it smell so sweetly.

Rake it into tidy piles
Now the farmer's ready,
Load it on the old hay cart,
Drawn by faithful Neddy.

Down the lane the last load goes,

Here we bring new water
from the well so clear,
For to worship God with,
this happy New Year.
Sing, levy dew, sing levy dew,
the water and the wine;
The seven bright gold wires
and the bugles that do shine.

Sing reign of Fair Maid,
with gold upon her toe--
Open you the West Door,
and turn the Old Year go.

Sing reign of Fair Maid
with gold upon her chin--
Open you the East Door,
and let the New Year in.
Sing levy dew, sing levy dew,
the water and the wine;

Here tradesmen, 'tis plain, at no roguery stop,
They adulterate everything they've in their shop;
You must buy what they sell, and they'll sell what they please,
And they would, if they could, sell the moon for green cheese.

Sing tantararara, rogues all, rogues all,
Sing tantararara, rogues all.

Now it is well know imitation's the rage:
Everything's imitated in this rare old age;
There's tea, coffee, beer, butter, gin, milk, in brief,
No doubt they'll soon imitate mutton and beef.

Here the young lover, on his elbow raised,
Looked at his happy girl with grass surrounded,
And flicked the spotted beetle from her wrist:
She, with her head thrown back, at heaven gazed,
At Suffolk clouds, serene and slow and mounded;
Then calmly smiled at him before they kissed.

Here the human past is dim and feeble and alien to us
Our ghosts draw from the crowded future.
Fixed as the past how could it fail to drop weird shadows
And make strange murmurs about twilight?
In the dawn twilight metal falcons flew over the mountain,
Multitudes, and faded in the air; at moonrise
The farmer's girl by the still river is afraid of phantoms,
Hearing the pulse of a great city
Move on the water-meadow and stream off south; the country's
Children for all their innocent minds