I wish I could write romantic rot,
Like the beautiful songs they sing
At Ballad Concerts; why should I not
Attempt such a simple thing?
This metre's just right. Here goes!--The moon
Shone sad o'er the silvered waves,
The nightingale trilled 'neath that night of June,
Where the river the primrose laves.
(That's good, though hazy the sense may seem,
No primrose would bloom at the time;
The river "laves" it, not it the stream;
"Moon" and "June" makes a clumsy rhyme.)
Upon the terrace a maiden fair
Was gazing the waters o'er,
And dreaming of vows of love she ne'er
Would hear, as in days of yore.
("Days of yore," that's fine.) And her soft, sad eyes
Looked up at the starry night,
She kissed a fair ruby ring, with sighs,
Which shone on her fingers white.
(You put the words as it suits you best;
The adjective need not be
Before the noun.) On her heaving breast
A red, red rose you could see.
(That is if you had been there.) She wept;
To-night must her lover go.
The rose was awake, though the pimpernel slept.
(Bagged from TENNYSON, don't you know?)
The silent stream whispered scarce a sign,
Ere it swept past the willows grey.
(The sense is vague, though the sound is fine;
What it means even I can't say.)
Alas! alas! red, red rose, bright ring!
Red rose, cherished ring, alas!
(Such bosh sounds beautiful when you sing.)
A hush lay over the grass.
(I'm hanged if I know what a "hush" may be.
It's something pathetic, sublime.)
The nightingale warbled upon the tree.
O rose-scented summertime!
He came, and pressed to his manly heart
The maid 'neath the pale moonbeams
(Don't mind if accents are wrong); they part!
In (excellent rhyme) her dreams
The joy of that passionate farewell kiss
To the silent tomb she bore.
(I could easily write you a mile of this,
But you probably want no more.)
* * * * *
"LA FIN DU SEA-AIGLE(!!)."--The _Standard_ informs us that--
"A specimen of the white-tailed, or sea eagle, has just been
shot at Bude Haven, Cornwall. The bird weighed nearly eight
pounds, and the extended wings measure between seven and eight
feet from tip to tip."
Now, "next please," and let us have the "Very last of the Sea
Serpent!"
* * * * *