BALLADE

(DOUBLE REFRAIN)

OF YOUTH AND AGE

I. M.

Thomas Edward Brown

(1829-1896)

SPRING at her height on a morn at prime,
Sails that laugh from a flying squall,
Pomp of harmony, rapture of rhyme-
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
Winter sunsets and leaves that fall,
An empty flagon, a folded page,
A tumble-down wheel, a tattered ball—
These are a type of the world of Age.

Bells that clash in a gaudy chime,

Swords that clatter in onsets tall,

The words that ring and the fames that climb-

Youth is the sign of them, one and all.

Hymnals old in a dusty stall,

A bald, blind bird in a crazy cage,
The scene of a faded festival-

These are a type of the world of Age.

F

Hours that strut as the heirs of time,
Deeds whose rumour's a clarion-call,

Songs where the singers their souls sublime-
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.

A staff that rests in a nook of wall,
A reeling battle, a rusted gage,
The chant of a nearing funeral—
These are a type of the world of Age.

Envoy

Struggle and turmoil, revel and brawl-
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
A smouldering hearth and a silent stage-
These are a type of the world of Age.

BALLADE

(DOUBLE REFRAIN)

OF MIDSUMMER DAYS AND NIGHTS

To W. H.

WITH a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams The full world rolls in a rhythm of praise,

And the winds are one with the clouds and beams-
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!

The dusk grows vast; in a purple haze,
While the West from a rapture of sunset rights,
Faint stars their exquisite lamps upraise-
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!

The wood's green heart is a nest of dreams,
The lush grass thickens and springs and sways,
The rathe wheat rustles, the landscape gleams-
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
In the stilly fields, in the stilly ways,
All secret shadows and mystic lights,
Late lovers murmur and linger and gaze-
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!

There's a music of bells from the trampling teams,
Wild skylarks hover, the gorses blaze,
The rich, ripe rose as with incense steams-
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
A soul from the honeysuckle strays,
And the nightingale as from prophet heights
Sings to the Earth of her million Mays-
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!

Envoy

And it's O, for my dear and the charm that

stays

Midsummer days! Midsummer days!

It's O, for my Love and the dark that plightsMidsummer nights! O midsummer nights!

BALLADE

OF DEAD ACTORS

I. M.

Edward John Henley

(1861-1898)

WHERE are the passions they essayed,
And where the tears they made to flow?
Where the wild humours they portrayed
For laughing worlds to see and know?
Othello's wrath and Juliet's woe?
Sir Peter's whims and Timon's gall?
And Millamant and Romeo?

Into the night go one and all.

Where are the braveries, fresh or frayed?
The plumes, the armours-friend and foe?
The cloth of gold, the rare brocade,
The mantles glittering to and fro?
The pomp, the pride, the royal show?
The cries of war and festival?

The youth, the grace, the charm, the glow?
Into the night go one and all.