Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/236
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
200
Sonnet on Keats.
One whistles, catcalls squeal; the carpenter
Usurps the boards and rolls his rheumy eye;
And random hammers fall; the new planks reek.
Ho! ready, boatswain! where’s shipmaster, where?
Sebastian, Alonzo, boatswain, when?
Hush, hush! the curtain falls; the house is still.
His last first night.—Well, well; all lanes must end.
Give me thy hand, old friend, and wish me well,
My last first night! Sit thou, and tell me now
How goes it with thy Bell and Margery,
And how didst find thy suit, and how thy father;
How speeds it with thy quarrel of the tithe,
Say, hast thou beat ’em, hey! Good lack, good lack!
I do remember—hark, the house is stirred,
I warrant ’tis that “backward and abysm”;
And all this pretty talk of father and child.
The thrush is ceased, the lawn grows gray;
Heigho!
In, in, in, in! A something sober shade
This vine and fig-tree cast; but it is well.
In, in, in, in! my posset, and to bed!
Usurps the boards and rolls his rheumy eye;
And random hammers fall; the new planks reek.
Ho! ready, boatswain! where’s shipmaster, where?
Sebastian, Alonzo, boatswain, when?
Hush, hush! the curtain falls; the house is still.
His last first night.—Well, well; all lanes must end.
Give me thy hand, old friend, and wish me well,
My last first night! Sit thou, and tell me now
How goes it with thy Bell and Margery,
And how didst find thy suit, and how thy father;
How speeds it with thy quarrel of the tithe,
Say, hast thou beat ’em, hey! Good lack, good lack!
I do remember—hark, the house is stirred,
I warrant ’tis that “backward and abysm”;
And all this pretty talk of father and child.
The thrush is ceased, the lawn grows gray;
Heigho!
In, in, in, in! A something sober shade
This vine and fig-tree cast; but it is well.
In, in, in, in! my posset, and to bed!
CXXXIX.
Sonnet on Keats.
Now, while the air is sweet with breath of spring,
And loud with liquid melody and mirth;
When budding flowers burst into early birth,
And orchard trees are white with blossoming,
And loud with liquid melody and mirth;
When budding flowers burst into early birth,
And orchard trees are white with blossoming,