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Cornell University 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013573484 
 
POEMS 
 
 NELLY DALE 
 CHILDREN 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS WOOLNER 
 
 LONDON 
 GEORGE BELL AND SONS YORK STREET 
 COVENT GARDEN 
 * 1887 
 
 Price One Shilling. 
 
POEMS 
 
 NELLY DALE 
 CHILDREN 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS WOOLNER 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE BELL AND SONS YORK STREET 
 
 COVENT GARDEN 
 
 1887 
 
A^-^s'S^^S 
 

 NELLY DALE. 
 
 ~~i>h- 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 H, Nelly Dale, nigh fifty years 
 Since you and I set out together, 
 Joyful both, as the summer weather, 
 That swarmed our pathway to the meres 
 So rich with blossom, and opulent 
 Successive honeysuckle scent. 
 It smiled a golden garden, gay 
 With flutter of insects all the way ! 
 
 The kine were white and smooth as silk 
 At Flowerdew's, where we went for milk 
 With jug and can. The can you bore 
 Jingled and tumbled when you tore 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 Your new frock striped with lilac, while 
 Crossing that high-built awkward stile. 
 
 Leaving our cottage gates at noon, 
 Adown the dusty hill we soon 
 Turned in a water-alley, dry 
 As our discourse ; for we were shy, 
 Speaking not till the double ranks 
 Of willows on their shadowed banks 
 Had closed us from the road, and we 
 Were all we saw and cared to see. 
 
 As if let out from school we ran,. 
 Until we settled stride for stride 
 To even walking, side by side ; 
 And tho' to keep apart we tried, 
 The jug kept clinking against the can ! 
 
 Once pausing in an upper path 
 That hemmed great pasture ribbed with math, 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 We saw the prospect openly 
 Melt in remote transparent sky ; 
 Some fancy kindled, and I began 
 To whistle '' Tom the Piper's Son," 
 Wondering whether, when grown a man, 
 I should remain to plod, or plan. 
 As others about had always done. 
 Or to some wondrous country stray, 
 Over the hills and far away ! 
 
 But turning to your comely face. 
 The opened ilower of native grace 
 That casts a charm on homely ways. 
 Your mother's boast, her constant praise ; 
 Contented here, I hoped I might 
 Be never from my darling's sight. 
 
 Ah me, our young delight to roam 
 Along that lane so far from home ! 
 Laughter, and chatter of this or that ; 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 Ripening strawberries, mice and cat ; 
 The birthday near ; the birthday treat, 
 With something extra good to eat, 
 And currant, cowslip, elder wine, 
 As real lords and ladies dine ! 
 
 Equal delight our silence next ; 
 Making-believe that you are vext, 
 When swooping round to kiss you I 
 Tumble your bonnet all awry, 
 And promptly you the strings untie 
 To set it duly straight again ; 
 How smartly twinkle ribbands twain 
 To bows, turned sidewise in disdain. 
 Till by your nimble fingers fixed 
 They settle amicably mixed ! 
 
 Moments of mutual mute surprize 
 Made converse of our glancing eyes, 
 As we went onward, all things seeming 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 Strange, and rich, and fair, while dreaming 
 
 Transient glimpses of what alone 
 
 Is ever by great-winged angels known. 
 
 We knew not whether you or I 
 First saw the splendid butterfly 
 Trembling about us as we turned 
 To watch how blue and crimson burned 
 In flashes 'twixt those blushing wings ! 
 Nelly, I see you watch the lark 
 That fluttering high, aspiring sings ; 
 We both watch till our sight grows dark 
 And wonder whither he is fled 
 In sapphire ether overhead. 
 Tho' vanished, still his rapture rings 
 And thrills our bosoms, marching slow 
 Our winding way ; when brilliant, lo 
 From somewhere starting, re-appears 
 Our friendly butterfly and nears 
 A 3 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 A spider-web, in holly spun 
 With rainbow hues that net the sun, 
 Making coy circles ere he alight 
 Entangled in the toil of death ! 
 Forward I spring, without my breath, 
 To see the fiend, high-elbowed, whirl 
 Around those limbs and wings, and twirl 
 His thread to thwart the chance of flight. 
 Fate on a single instant hangs. 
 And ready the demon's eager fangs 
 To penetrate that sylphic breast ! 
 Nipping the wing-tips gently I 
 Flirt him from danger suddenly ; 
 Strike with my cap a rapid blow, 
 Dashing the enemy down below 
 Thro' grass crushed safely into dust. 
 There shivering on my stretched forefinger 
 A little while his terrors linger, 
 Doubting if yet his wings to trust. 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 Ere, with a bolder flap or two, 
 He flutters into airy blue. 
 
 Could any mortal boy resist, 
 When heavenward, in a rosy pout 
 Your lips you ofiered to be kissed ; 
 Fresh as carnations breaking out 
 Of dewy sheaths, on summer dawns 
 Yet pale upon the misty lawns ! 
 
 We pass from shadowy splendour soon 
 To face the blazoned afternoon, 
 Where wide around the basking sun 
 Lies on the meadow fast asleep. 
 Near random bushes, one by one. 
 Nestled around a pond, the sheep 
 Are scattered and doze in grateful shade ; 
 And hazed cornfields beyond the glade. 
 Undulating, and dazzling sight, 
 Seem quivering for predestined flight 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 To worlds of unrevealed delight. 
 In lustrous sheen, their stately looks 
 Sedate as parsons reading books, 
 Flock gray-billed, see-saw-gaited rooks 
 Strutting ; or when they wings assume 
 Pluck the warm air with fingered plume. 
 Labouring, anxious if weight and size 
 Make flight most hazardous or wise ! 
 
 Nelly, we sauntered on and on 
 By hedgerows, brightly overhung 
 And sprinkled thick with snowy showers 
 Of woodbine stars ; where bindweed flowers 
 Ample and moonwhite nobly shone, 
 And over green abysses slung, 
 Mid honey-haunting sound of bees, 
 Swayed lightly to the scented breeze. 
 
 In passing starwort's silvery gems, 
 By maple's warm fawn-tinted stems, 
 Caprices that gnarled the oak and thorn, 
 
NELLY DALE. 13 
 
 A sudden scream of rageful scorn 
 Startles us from the hedgerow nigh ; 
 Whence two disturbed fierce blackbirds fly 
 Uttering threats of vengeance dire ! 
 While we, who lit this angry fire, 
 Are wondering such discordant throats 
 Can tune those soft melodious notes 
 The fondest lover's listening ear, 
 At even, turns entranced to hear ! 
 
 But if I sang of every sight 
 
 That afternoon which gave delight. 
 
 Those treasures would my numbers throng 
 
 Beyond the compass of my song ; 
 
 Therefore, Nelly, to be precise, 
 
 We bought the milk, and paid the price 
 
 Charged in that rural paradise. 
 
 The rolls of butter, the jars of cream. 
 
 Churn, and cleanly pans, now seem, 
 
14 NELLY DALE. 
 
 Thro' fifty years of vanished time, 
 The memories of a nursery rhyme ; 
 Or story, like The Babes in the Wood, 
 Written for children to make them good. 
 
 Homeward we went in soberer mood ; 
 Haply the weight we had to carry. 
 By stile and gate oft made us tarry 
 To change our hands, and ease the weight 
 By making both co-operate. 
 At length we knew the hour grew late. 
 Because we saw our shadows rise. 
 Mocking our motions, thrice our size ; 
 And keeping faithful phantom pace, 
 Tempting us to an elfin race 
 For fairy treasure ; all in play ! 
 For which, whatever they might say. 
 We knew our lives would have to pay ! 
 Both breaking into prattle showed 
 
NELLY DALE. 15 
 
 How pleased we trod the dusty road 
 Once more ; and rested where the rill 
 Sings issuing, halfway up the hill ; 
 Where maids and wives their pitchers bring 
 To fill, and gossip at the spring. 
 
 To gossip ourselves we durst not stop, 
 As we had yet to reach the top 
 Where, starting from before the moon, 
 Our church spire quickened, rose, and danced 
 Higher and higher as we advanced, 
 And on a sudden ceased, as soon 
 As we were on the level ; then. 
 There your mother stood at the gate 
 Impatient we were out so late ; 
 Enquiring how, and why, and when ; 
 She thought we had been drowned, and lost. 
 And by some savage mad bull tossed ; 
 So long had she been looking out ! 
 Whatever had we been about ? 
 
1 6 NELLY DALE. 
 
 Altho' we saw so much that day, 
 But little then had we to say, 
 And told her a bewildered tale 
 Of garment torn by splintered rail ; 
 Of spiders, blackbirds, butterflies ; 
 Of rooks so near that looked so wise ! 
 Of ghostly shadows, some of the way, 
 That had been tempting us to play, 
 Tho' sure they must have known we should 
 Be making all the haste we could ! 
 The gentle scolding given and past, 
 We bade each other good-night at last ; 
 When floating in the stillness by 
 Came sounds like " late," and " supper," and " bed ; " 
 And brighter through a deepening sky 
 A million stars shone o'er my head, 
 And bats flew fast and silently. 
 
 When memory wings her way to you. 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 I nurse my faith to think it true 
 For one day, Nelly, you were mine ! 
 Ah, Dearest, had that day divine 
 Made us two one for good and all ! 
 The nursery words I now recall, 
 Of Tom the Piper's Son's one tune, 
 Mused over in that day of June, 
 Have proved the prelude to my fate ! 
 We were not fashioned to translate 
 Each other's will as man and wife ; 
 And tho' I was not broken-hearted, 
 As Burns when from his Mary parted, 
 And fled the fragrance of his life ; 
 Yet are you near and dear to me ! 
 For on the bridge below the hill 
 I see you smile as sweetly still ; 
 And in your clear wide-open eyes 
 The spacious wonder of the skies. 
 While every thoughtful dainty grace 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 Rests well contented in your face, 
 All fascinations of the rose 
 Uniting in your presence close. 
 Indeed, from glowing hair to feet. 
 So lightly poised, shaped so complete, 
 You seem a being 'twixt a flower, 
 The glory of a shining hour. 
 And one ordained to satisfy 
 The claims of immortality. 
 
 Your beauty, like a queen's or king's 
 Good word, gives price to common things ; 
 The can your ruddy fingers hold 
 Hangs lovelier there than purest gold ; 
 And, as the poor, grown rich by chance. 
 Run raptured in extravagance, 
 My fancy riots in the fields' 
 Increasing wealth its charter yields ; 
 And at your lintel, by the bower 
 
NELLY DALE. 19 
 
 Of vine leaves screening noonday heat ; 
 The grapes, that hang there small and sour, 
 Are soft in bloom and more than sweet ! 
 
 Beholding kittens as they play. 
 Black, tortoise, white, or silver-gray ; 
 Or ducklings on the water glide, 
 Yellow and soft, and artless-eyed ; 
 Or neatly-shapen chicks astray. 
 Pecking incessantly on their way ; 
 Each such a trim completed creature. 
 In perfect movement, hue, and feature ; 
 A foolish sadness makes me sigh 
 They lack immutability. 
 But you, my Nelly, are ever young. 
 Fresh and happy you dwell among 
 The brightest flowers, and flourish where 
 Meadows are ever fresh and fair. 
 As you were then I see you now. 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 Standing beneath an apple bough ; 
 Your face amid its blossoms, bright 
 With rosy laughter and delight, 
 You seem a blossom the partial sun 
 Has chosen to make a larger one. 
 
 What may your pilgrimage have been. 
 
 Since both of us lost our Eden days, 
 
 I never rashly tried to glean ; 
 
 And know not if your childhood vyays 
 
 Were trodden by your maiden feet 
 
 When, flushed and shy with hope and fear, 
 
 You went your loitering swain to meet 
 
 And hsten to sounds you loved to hear ! 
 
 But if sometimes your heart was fain 
 
 Along our honeysuckle lane 
 
 Again to roam, in gracious flight 
 
 Your memory would have found delight 
 
 In wandering there a child again ! 
 
NELLY DALE. 
 
 And if a matron you became, 
 With a matron's worries and daily strife ; 
 Tlie pain and sorrow, the hurt and blame 
 Mixed with pleasure, of being a wife, 
 I know not. But of this am sure, 
 That if with daughters you were blessed, 
 They found your bright example lure. 
 Thro' ways by wisdom proven best, 
 And sympathetic, generous trust 
 To kindly conduct more than just. 
 If old experience yet holds true. 
 And by a generation's lapse 
 Your daughter's child resembles you. 
 Then by that happy law perhaps 
 Another Nelly may be seen 
 To grace some other village green ; 
 As native there as morning dew ; 
 Or larks aloft, when lost to view 
 They lift us thro' the trembhng blue 
 
NELL Y DALE. 
 
 To soar with them in ecstasy ; 
 Or primroses, wlrose welcome faces 
 From sunny banlcs and shady places, 
 Tenderly glimmer in pallid gold 
 Caught as early morning broke, 
 When, dreaming daylight, they awoke 
 Enamoured from the moistened mold. 
 And if a Nelly, tho' changed in name. 
 Her fair endowments will the same 
 Point every grace that charmed before 
 Thro' unrenowned ancestresses. 
 Then still there beams a joy that blesses 
 The traveller by your cottage door ; 
 Who, pleased in after years to trace 
 Remembrance of your playful face, 
 May linger on your presence while 
 Before him still you turn to smile. 
 
CHILDREN. 
 
CHILDREN. 
 
 ' Heaven lies about us in our infancy.' 
 
 RAWN shyly to each other soon 
 The children's willing hands embrace, 
 And eager-eyed they meet the new 
 Strong morning face to face. 
 
 Shouting abroad they seek the day, 
 And bound or whirl for very bliss ; 
 Then sidewise brush the glittering grass 
 To feel how wet it is : 
 
 Where, sliding from its home, the snail's 
 Thin horns prick vaguely while it crawls, 
 That touched by timid finger shrink 
 Back in their castle walls. 
 
26 CHILDREN. 
 
 Gay in the sunshine everywhere 
 Scattered blossomy butterflies 
 Brighten the fields : hands spread, the Boy, 
 Bent on a capture hies ; 
 
 The prize beat down, he loudly vaunts 
 And shows the Girl his victory, 
 Who prims herself, and pouts, and calls 
 It wicked cruelty : 
 
 He, puffing off the fairy down 
 
 Of dandelions, links a chain ; 
 
 Which round her half-turned neck he drops 
 
 And brings her to again. 
 
 Stooping they mark how fretful ants 
 Do sharply over-run their mound, 
 Wondering how such tiny things 
 Heap up the heavy ground. 
 
CHILDREN. 27 
 
 They watch the restless swallows skim, 
 Shaking the highest plumes of grass, 
 And wonder what the birds can mean 
 That they so often pass ! 
 
 They gaze where stretched-out languid kine, 
 Oppressed with noontide, vainly try 
 By jerking their vexed ears to scare 
 The pertinacious fly. 
 
 How darkly by the shining stream 
 The tall great poplar giants frown, 
 Whose water-imaged quivering lengths 
 Grow in it points adown ! 
 
 Thus wandering in the Golden Age, 
 They breast the pure unruffled joy 
 Of perfect day in perfect trust, 
 A happy Girl and Boy : 
 
28 CHILDREN. 
 
 Who breathe the summer's sweetest breath, 
 Who live without regret or fear, 
 And feel the dome of smiling heaven 
 Continually near. 
 
 Altho' especial grace to charm 
 Exists in nothing they behold, 
 The alchemy of young delight 
 Turns everything to gold ; 
 
 To lasting gold of which they dream 
 In years to come ; when storms have torn 
 And swept to waste both leaf and flower, 
 And only left the thorn. 
 
 Comes creeping chill with ageing day : 
 Gaunt shadows stride across the land ; 
 Leaves whiten and shudder ; while on high 
 Torn driftings, dark and grand, 
 
CHILDREN. 29 
 
 Charge wildly on where wrestling heaps 
 Fail in a solid drench of rain, 
 That dances with the whirling dust 
 And smokes along the plain. 
 
 Crouched safe beneath a cavemed bank, 
 Both staring wide with hushed up breath, 
 Wait till the tempest wings aloof 
 Or beats itself to death : 
 
 When lo, burnt in yon iron gloom 
 The rainbow born of beauty glows 
 A burnished splendour ! Yet awhile 
 Brighter its glory grows : 
 
 Anon the sky blown clear of storm. 
 The wonder waning steals away, 
 Taking the jewelled wealth from heaven. 
 Leaving discrowned the day. 
 
30 CHILDREN. 
 
 Again comes forth the conquering sun ; 
 Earth wakes in laughter at the sight, 
 Myriads of trembUng water drops 
 Brighten to gems of light ; 
 
 And scattered loose from playful leaves 
 The diamonds sparkling down in showers 
 Fall into nothing at their feet 
 Among the grass and flowers ; 
 
 Where baby frogs in puny dots 
 Leap round about them suddenly, 
 And must, the sprawling, naked imps. 
 Have fallen from the sky ! 
 
 Now woodland life, exultant, shrill. 
 Aroused, as light begins to wear, 
 Comes thronging in united notes 
 Thro' rinsed and wholesome air : 
 
CHILDREN. 31 
 
 From sky and wood, from every hedge 
 Strike musical mad rivalries ; 
 From stretching plain to zenith rings 
 A warbling paradise. 
 
 'Tis fleeting bliss ! For songsters all 
 Subside by fitful breaks and cease, 
 Leaving the cool and shadowing eve 
 To brood in silent peace ; 
 
 Save lonely chirrups from the grass, 
 Or late hum swinging sadly by ; 
 Trancing a world whose parted hues 
 Yet linger in the sky. 
 
 While deepening dusk binds fast the trees. 
 And shrubs chng closer to the ground, 
 Familiar, grown unwonted sights 
 Are vanishing around : 
 
32 CHILDREN. 
 
 While stray rooks dimly seek their haunts, 
 And elfin shapes glance fluttering near, 
 The Children think the ways grow strange, 
 And talk aloud for fear. 
 
 Now all is hushed ; and drowzy birds 
 Bills underneath their wings all sleep ; 
 The last rays lingering slowly leave 
 The backs of slumbering sheep. 
 
 Hand locked in hand drawn close they walk 
 And whisper of to-morrow's schemes ; 
 Their homeward path is moist with dew 
 Whereon the moonlight gleams. 
 
 CHISWICK FRttSS :— C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, 
 CHANCERY LANE. 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 5843.W5P7 
 
 Poems.Nelly Dale. Children. 
 
 3 1924 013 573 484