Once Upon a Time and Other Child-Verses

Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman

PREFACE

TRUSTING to the sweet charity of little folkTo find some grace, in spite of halting rhymeAnd frequent telling, in these little tales,I say again: – Now, once upon a time!

ONCE UPON A TIME

NOW, once upon a time, a nest of fairiesWas in a meadow 'neath a wild rose-tree;And, once upon a time, the violets clusteredSo thick around it one could scarcely see;And, once upon a time, a troop of childrenCame dancing by upon the flowery ground;And, once upon a time, the nest of fairies,With shouts of joy and wonderment theyfound;And, once upon a time, the fairies flutteredOn purple winglets, shimmering in the sun;And, once upon a time, the nest forsaking,They flew off thro' the violets, every one;And, once upon a time, the children followedWith loud halloos along the meadow green;And, once upon a time, the fairies vanished,And never more could one of them be seen;And, once upon a time, the children soughtthemFor many a day, but fruitless was their quest,For, once upon a time, amid the violets,They only found the fairies' empty nest.

THE SICK FAIRY

BREW some tea o' cowslips, make somepoppy-gruel,Serve it in a buttercup – ah, 'tis very cruel,That she is so ailing, pretty Violetta!Locust, stop your violin, till she's feeling better.

THE ENCHANTED TALE OF BANBURY CROSS

"Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,To see an old woman jump on a white horse;With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,She shall make music wherever she goes."– Old Nursery Rhyme.PRAY show the way to Banbury Cross,"Silver bells are ringing ;"To find the place I'm at a loss,"Silver bells are ringing."Pass six tall hollyhocks red and white;Then, turn the corner toward the right,Pass four white roses; turn once more,Go by a bed of gilly-flower,And one of primrose; turn againWhere, glittering with silver rain,There is a violet-bank; then passA meadow green with velvet grass,Where lovely lights and shadows play,And white lambs frolic all the day,Where blooming trees their branches toss —Then will you come to Banbury Cross."The white horse arched his slender neck,Silver bells are ringing;Snow-white he was without a speck,Silver bells are ringing.An old wife held his bridle-rein,(The king was there with all his train),Her gray hair fluttered in the wind,Her gaze turned inward on her mind;And not one face seemed she to seeIn all that goodly company.Gems sparkled on her withered hands;Her ankles gleamed with silver bandsOn which sweet silver bells were hung,And always, when she stirred, they rung.The white horse waited for the start,Silver bells are ringing;Before him leapt his fiery heart,Silver bells are ringing.Up on his back the old wife sprung,Her silver bells, how sweetthey rung!She gave her milk-whitesteed the rein,And round they swept,and round again.A merry sight it wasto see,And the silver bellsThe Old Wife.rang lustily.The gallant horse with gold was shod;So fleetly leapt he o'er the sod,He passed the king before he knew,And past his flying shadow flew.A pretty sight it was, forsooth,Silver bells are ringing;For dame and children, maid and youth,Silver bells are ringing.The princess laughed out with delight,And clapped her hands, so lily-white —The darling princess, sweet was sheAs any flowering hawthorn-tree.She stood beside her sire, the king,And heard the silvery music ring,And watched the white horse, o'er theSweep round, and round, and round againUntil the old wife slacked his paceBefore the princess' wondering face,Then snatched her up before they knew,Silver bells are ringing;And with her from their vision flew,Silver bells are ringing.The nobles to their saddles springAnd follow, headed by the king!But, when they reach it, it is goneThe white dew falls, the sun is set,And no trace of the princess yet.They gallop over meadows green;They leap the bars that lie between;Thro' the cool woodland ride they now,'Neath rustling branches, bending low;The silver music draws themAlong the beams of moonlight pale,Silver bells are ringing;In violet shadows in the vale,Silver bells are ringing."Return with us, oh, gracious king!This search is but a bootless thing.A spell is laid upon our minds,Our thoughts are tossed as by the winds,And deeper o'er our senses swellsThe music of those silver bells!Return, oh, king, ere 'tislate;The Wise Man by thepalace gateWill give to thee hiskindly aid,So shalt thou find theroyal maid."They galloped back o'er hill and dale,Silver bells are ringing;In soft gusts came the southern gale,Silver bells are ringing.The trembling king knelt down beforeThe Wise Man at the palace-door:"Oh, Wise Man! art thou truly wise —Find out my child with thy bright eyes!""Thy daughter clings to carven stone,White dove-wings from her shouldersgrown;In downy dove-plumes is she drest;They shine like jewels on her breast;She sits beneath the minster eaves,Amongst the clustering ivy leaves.""She was so full of angel-love,"Silver bells are ringing;"They could but make her a white dove,"Silver bells are ringing.The king stood 'neath the minster wall,And loudly on his child did call.A snow-white dove beneath the eaves,Looked down from 'mongst the ivy leaves,Then flew down to the monarch's breast,And, sorely panting, there did rest.Then spake the Wise Man by his side:"Oh, king, canst thou subdue thy pride,And hang thy crown beneath the eaves,Amongst the clustering ivy leaves"In thine unhappy daughter's place?"Silver bells are ringing;"For thus she'll find her maiden grace,"Silver bells are ringing.The jewels in the royalcrown,Out from the darkgreen ivy shone!The white dove softlyfolds her wings,Then lightly to the groundshe springs —A princess, sweeter than before,For being a white dove an hour.They went home through the happy town,The king forgot his royal crown,And soon, beneath the minster eaves,'Twas hidden by the ivy leaves.

A-BERRYING

NOW Susan Jane a-berrying goes,With her dipper and pail a-berry-ing goes —Now Susan Jane creeps dolefully home, andmournfully hangs her head;For she tumbled down and bumped hernose,She tore her frock and she stubbed her toes,And the blueberries all were green, alas! andthe blackberries all were red!

TWO MOODS

MEADOWS shadowy and sunny,Pink with clover, sweet with honey,Green with grass that shakes and swings,Rustling 'till it almost sings,From her open window showFor a pleasant mile or so.She with earnest, pensive look,Bending o'er an open book,Her own happy self forgetsFollowing a story-child'sPretty pleasures and regrets.Straightening up her golden head,Now she sees the fields instead,Where the grass and clover stir,And her glad self and her dayRadiantly come back to her.

THE THREE MARGERY DAWS

SEE-SAW, see-saw, up and down we gay-ly go!See-saw, see-saw, such a lovely teeter, O!See-saw, see-saw,grass across a daisy-stalk —Up and down the robins teetered with theirsilvery talk.See-saw, see-saw! robins, they know how toplaySee-saw, see-saw, as well as children any day;See-saw, see-saw! lads and lassies, don't youknow,Grass across a daisy-stalk makes a lovelyteeter, O!

A LITTLE SEAMSTRESS

SHE sat in her little rocking-chair, a-sigh-ing and twirling her thumbs:"Oh, everything for my doll is done, andnever to mending comes!I haven't a morsel of sewing! – dear mother,in all the town,Can't you find me one doll, no matter howsmall, who will wear out her gown?"

THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS

MY lady's ready for the ball;But she's lost her golden slippers,And the servants scurry all,From the pantry, from the hall,Brooms in hand, and spoons and dippers.Ah, my lady's golden slippers!Footman, cook, and housemaid – run!Hunt ye nimbly, every one!Round they whirl, the lightsome trippers,And the music has begun:Ah, my lady's golden slippers!Hurry, hurry; for she yet,If ye find her golden slippers,May lead off the minuetWith the Prince of Popinet,Foremost of the stately steppers.Ah, my lady's golden slippers!Guess ye where they found them all!Dancing bravely at the ball,Of themselves, these frisky slippers,Wheeling at the fiddle's call —Ah, my lady's golden slippers!

THE TITHING-MAN

BONNY sweet-marjoram was in flower,The pinks had come with their spicessweet;Thro' the village sounded the Sabbath-bell,And the reverent people flocked down thestreet.Little Elizabeth, prim and pale,A decorous little Puritan maid,Walked soberly up the meeting-house hill,With a look on her face as if she prayed.Her catechism was in her hand,Unvexed was she by the scholar's art;Her simple lesson she simply learned,And loved the Father with all her heart.Her little kerchief was white as snow,Like a rose she looked in her Sunday gownAs she soberly climbed the meeting-househill,With her pretty eyes east meekly down.Little Elizabeth sat aloneIn the queer old-fashioned oaken pew,And earnestly on the parson bentHer modest, innocent eyes of blue.But, ah! the sermon was deep and long,The parson spoke with a weary drone;And she heard the honey-bees out of doorsHum, in a drowsy monotone;The very wind had a sleepy sound —Little Elizabeth began to nod,Though she told herself 'twas a dreadful thingTo fall asleep in the house of God."My fourthly is," the parson droned; —"I pray the Lord my soul to keep,"Mused little Elizabeth in a maze —And then – ah me! she fell asleep.The tithing-man crept down the aisleIn solemn state, with his awful rod,To chide the folk in the meeting-houseWho dared to whisper, or smile, or nod.Little Elizabeth soundly slept,All by herself, in the oaken pew,With the heavy gold-fringed eyelids droopedOver her innocent eyes of blue.Close to her tiptoed the tithing-man,And over her reached his awful rod,And poked the little Puritan maidFor falling asleep in the house of God.Dear little Elizabeth, prim and pale!How her poor heart jumped when shewoke and foundThe dreaded tithing-man at her side,And the queer poke-bonnets all turninground!Then she sat straight up in the old oak pew,Grave and pale as a lily-flower;But she thought the people all looked at her,While all their eyes did lower and glower;And, going home, she fancied the birdsCalled back and forth, with a knowing nod:"There's the little maid whom the tithing-manCaught fast asleep in the house of God."

THE BARLEY-CANDY BOY

O THE Barley-Candy Boy! O the Bar-ley-Candy Boy!Who lived in the toy-man's window, 'tis littlehe had of joy!For he could not eat a bit of sweet, nor anysugar at all,Unless he ran a fearful risk of being a can-nibal.

DOWN IN THE CLOVER

( A Duet, with Sheep Obligato.)MID feeding lambs and springing grassThere sat a little lad and lass,A green umbrella overhead,The flickering shade of boughs instead,And read a book of fairy rhyme,All in their gay vacation time.Quoth he: "The dearest, queerest storyWas that one of the fairy prince,Who sailed down stream in his pearl dory,Neath boughs of rose and flowering quince,To save the lovely princess whomThe wicked, white-haired, old witch-ladyKept in a tower of awful gloom,Deep in a magic forest shady:How proud he tossed his plumèd headBefore the witch's door, and said " —Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Honey-sweet the clover'sblowingBa-a, ba-a! Juicy-green the grass isgrowing."I think," quoth she, "there's one that'sbetter:About that little fairy girl,Who bound the ogre with a fetterOf spiderwort and grass and pearl;Then singing in the gateway sat,Till up the road the prince came prancing,A jewelled feather in his hat,And set the cherry-boughs a-dancing.How low he bent his handsome headBefore the fairy girl, and said " —Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Who the day so sweetlypassesAs a lamb who never stops,But from dawn to twilight cropsClover-heads and dewy grasses?"Well, by and by I think I'll beA fairy prince as brave as he:I'll wind a silver bugle clear,Low and dim you'll hear it, dear;A sword with jewelled hilt I'll bear,A cap and heron-plume I'll wear,And I will rescue you," quothhe."Fast to the witch's tower I'llAnd beat upon the gate, andcrySheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Sweet thesimple life we're leading,In the sweet green pasturefeeding!Then quoth the little readerfair."I've changed my mind, for I don't dareTo stay there in the witch's tower;I'll be the dame who found a flowerOf gold and rubies – in the tale —And sold it for a fairy veil,Which made her look so sweet and trueThat she was dearly loved; then you " —Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Turn the juicy morsel over.Who would be a lad or lass,If he could his summer passAs the sheep amongst the clover?Grasshoppers on daisies teeter,Dew-drops clovers sweeten sweeter.Who can care for stupid tales,Fairy horns and f airy veils,Fairy princess, fairy prince?Yet we must not blame them, since( Turn the juicy morsel over)They cannot be sheep in clover.

THE BALLAD OF THE BLACK-SMITH'S SONS

ICLING, clang, – "Whoa, my bonny graymare!Whoa," – cling, clang, – "my bay!But the black and the sorrel must stay unshod,While my two fair sons are away."IIWhile the blacksmith spake, his fair sonscame,And stood in the smithy door —"Now where have ye been, my two fair sons,For your father has missed ye sore? "IIIThen pleasantly spake the younger son,With the eyes of dreamy blue:"O Father, we've been in a land as brightAs the glint o' the morning dew! "IVThen his brother twinkled his gay black eyes,And he spake up merry and bold:"Hey, Father, we've been in the fairy land,Where the horses are shod wi' gold!"V"An' what did ye there in Fairyland,O my two fair sons, I pray?""We shod for them, Father, their fairy steeds,All in a month an' a day.VI"An', Father, we shod them wi' virgin gold;Each nail had a diamond head;All the steeds were as white as the clear moon-light,An' in fields o' lilies they fed.""An' what was the sum o' the fairy hire,O my two fair sons, I pray?""A seed of a wonderful fairy flower,They gave to us each for pay! "VIII"An' what will ye do wi' the seeds, fairsons?""We will sow i' the light, green spring,An' maybe a golden rose will toss,Or a silver lily will swing."IX"Now," – cling, clang, – "whoa, my bonnygray mare!Whoa," – cling, clang, – "my bay!An' the sorrel an' black, now my sons areback,Can be shod " – cling, clang, – "to-day."XOh! the smith's sons planted the fairy seedsWhen the light, green spring came round,Through the sunlit hours, 'twixt the Aprilshowers,In the best of the garden ground.XIThen the white rains wove with the longlight-beams,Till a stalk, like a slim green flame,Pierced the garden mould: a leaf unrolled;And another beside it came.XIIThen the brothers tended their fairy plantsTill they shot up brave and tall,And the leaves grew thick. "Now soon shallwe pickA rose like a golden ball;XIII"Or else we shall see a lily, maybe,With a bell o' bright silver cast,"They thought; and they cried with joy andWhen the blossom-buds shaped at last.XIV"Now, heyday!" shouted the elder son,And he danced in the garden walk,"A hat I will buy, as a steeple high,An' the neighbors will stare an' talk.XV"Heyday! I will buy me a brave gold chain,An' a waistcoat o' satin fine,A ruff o' lace, an' a pony an' chaise,An' a bottle o' red old wine!"XVIBut his brother looked up in the blue springsky,And his yellow curls shone in the sun —"O joy! If I hold but my fairy gold,My father's toil is done!XVII"He shall hammer no more with his tiredold hands,He shall shoe not the bay nor the gray;But shall live as he please, an' sit at his ease,A-resting the livelong day."XVIIIAlas, and alas! When it came to passThat the bud to a flower was grown,It was pallid and green, – no blossom so meanIn the country side was known.XIXThen angrily hurried the elder son,And hustled his up by the root;And it gave out a sound, as it left the ground,Like the shriek of a fairy flute.XXBut he flung it over the garden wall;And he cried, with a scowling brow:"No waistcoat fine, an' no bottle o' wine —I have labored for naught, I trow! "XXI"Now," – cling, clang, – "whoa,my bonnygray mare!Cling, clang, – "whoa, my bay!But the sorrel an' white must wait to-night,For one son sulks all day."XXIIBut the blue-eyed son till the summer wasdoneCared well for his fairy-flower;He weeded and watered, and killed thegrubWould its delicate leaves devour.XXIIIThen forth to his garden he went one day,And the fairy plant was dead;The leaves were black in the white frost-light,And the stalk was a shrivelled shred.XXIV"Now, never a rose like a golden ball,Nor a silver lily shall blow;But never I'll mind, for I'm sure to findMore gold, if I work, I know."XXVThen he tenderly pulled up the fairy plant,And lo, in the frosty mould,Like a star from the skies to his dazzled eyes,Was blazing a bulb of gold!XXVI"Now," – cling, clang, – "whoa, my bonnygray mare!Or gallop or trot, as ye may!This happy old smith will shoe ye no more,For he sits at his ease, all day! "

A VALENTINE FOR BABY

The rose is red, the violet's blue,Pinks are pretty, and so are you."THE rose is red, my rosy dear;But that you as yet hardly know,Since you have only been with usFour of the times when roses blow.The violet's blue, my blue-eyed love;Yet that, perhaps, you hardly knew,Since you have only four times passedThe violets in their hoods of blue.The pinks are pretty, baby queen,And so are you; but that, also,From being here so short a time,Perhaps you've hardly learned to know.

THE FAIRY FLAG

A Skye Folk-lore StoryBEYOND the purple gloom of moors,Beyond the blueness of the sea,Beyond the range of chalk-white cliffs,The sun was setting peacefully.The fairy, on a grassy knoll,Sat dreaming, singing to the cows:"Knee-deep in clumps of plumy ferns,Knee-deep in rustling grasses browse!"The chieftain slays his foeman's clan,The lady broiders in the hall;I sit here singing to the cows,And am the gayest one of all!"Now of the clumps of spicy fern,Now of the juicy grasses taste!"The fairy wore a grass-green gown,With golden girdle at her waist;Her winsome little face upturned,Her soft gold hair all round her streamed;Her small pink cheeks like roses burned,Her wild blue eyes like jewels beamed.She struck a little harp o' pearl,As to the browsing kine she sung:All lightly o'er the fairy bridgeBeyond, a bonnie laddie sprung.He had Prince Charlie's yellow locks,His gay blue eyes and lovesome way:Son of the great Macleod was he —The castle just beyond him lay.The fairy lilted loud and sweet,The laddie turned him round to see;She lifted up her little face,And sweet, and sweet, and sweet, smiledshe.The laddie thro' the heatherran,His tartan blowing out behind,The little fairy, gowned in green,Wi' little harp o' pearl, to find.And since you are a mortal bairn,And yet have shunned me not," she said,A fairy gift I'll give to thee,To-morrow, when the west is red."And since you have a bonny face,I'll give to thee a fairy kiss,To take the bitter from thy woe,And add a sweetness to thy bliss."She kissed the laddie's blushing cheek,And all the air grew sweet around,As if a million flowers bloomed out —And then she vanished from the ground.The western sky all roses was,And round the "Macleod's Maidens'" feetFoam-wreaths to wreaths of roses turned.The fairy lilted loud and sweet;The laddie o'er the fairy bridge,Came running lightly to her side:"And have you brought the fairy giftYou promised me last night?" he cried.The flag was green as springtide swardWhat time the sun upon it lies,And shot with threads of glittering gold,And filled with spots of gold, like eyes.She put it in the laddie's hand:"Once waved, 'twill bring thee thy desire,And twice, and thrice – but not again;Then cast it, worthless, in the fire!"A shadow o'er her gown o' green,A shadow o'er her winsome face,A shadow o'er her golden hair,Came softly creeping on apace.The fairy through the shadow shone,And struck her little harp o' pearl;Then vanished in the shadow's heart,Wi' golden and wi' rosy swirl.The laddie held the fairy flag,Alone in twilight gray and cold;And stood and looked, his wond'ring eyesAll filled with dancing motes of gold.The laddie's yellow beard had grown;He'd wedded with a lady fair;And he had got a little son,With his same bonnie yellow hair.And alway had the fairy's kiss,She gave to him so long ago,Added a sweetness to his bliss,And ta'en the bitter from his woe.But never yet the fairy flagHad waved upon the castle wall;For with his stalwart arm and sword,His troubles he had breasted all."Oh, where's my little laddie gone?"The lady left her 'broidery frame;Through every castle window peered,With tearful eyes, the gentle dame.Then Macleod called his followers out,And loud the castle trumpets blew:"Oh, Macleod's heir is strayed awa',And on the heather falls the dew,"And on the heather falls the dew;Shadows are floating o'er the sea.Oh, where's my little laddie gone:I pray ye bring him back to me!

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