HARK, HARK, THE LARK!

This song is as fresh as the morning. Later you will find a Tennyson poem for a much earlier hour-the mysterious dawn. There is no dark thing in this bit of Shakespeare. The following "Funeral Song" is a song of peace, but it burrows in the earth, as the next dances on the edge of the waves.

HARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:

With everything that pretty bin,
My lady sweet, arise!
Arise, arise!

SHAKESPEARE.

FUNERAL SONG

FEAR no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:

Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:

The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finish'd joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

SHAKESPEARE.

COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS

COME unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:

Curtsied when you have, and kiss'd,

The wild waves whist,

Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Hark, hark!

Bow-wow.

The watch-dogs bark:

Bow-wow.

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticleer

Cry Cock-a-diddle-dow.

SHAKESPEARE.

JOG ON!

JOG on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.

SHAKESPEARE.

OVER HILL, OVER DALE

I have not gathered many fairy poems into this collection, because fairies became rather a commonplace of poetry, the result of a ready-made kind of fancy. But Shakespeare has a right to his fairies because of his lovely fresh imagination.

OVER hill, over dale

Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,

In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

SHAKESPEARE.

TITANIA

FIRST FAIRY

You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong;
Come not near our Fairy Queen.

Chorus

Philomel with melody

Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! Never harm, nor spell, nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh! So good-night, with lullaby.

SECOND FAIRY

Weaving spiders, come not here;
Hence you long-legg'd spinners hence!
Beetles black, approach not near:
Worm, nor snail, do no offence.

Chorus

Philomel with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh!
So good-night, with lullaby.

SHAKESPEARE.

O SWEET CONTENT!

Among many active virtues rightly admired in our day, there is one virtue that finds small favour. But Content is not a tame or feeble thing in the fine energy of this poem.

ART thou poor, and hast thou golden slumbers?
O sweet content!

Art thou rich, and is thy mind perplexed?
O punishment!

Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed
To add to golden numbers, golden numbers?
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face;
Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny

!

Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring? O sweet content!

Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?

O punishment!

Then he that patiently want's burden bears
No burden bears, but is a king, a king!
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face;

Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!

THOMAS DEKKER.