Lord Alfred Tennyson
The Islet
`Whither O whither love shall we go,
For a score of sweet little summers or so’
The sweet little wife of the singer said,
On the day that follow’d the day she was wed,
`Whither O whither love shall we go?’
And the singer shaking his curly head
Turn’d as he sat, and struck the keys
There at his right with a sudden crash,
Singing, `and shall it be over the seas
With a crew that is neither rude nor rash,
But a bevy of Eroses apple-cheek’d,
In a shallop of crystal ivory-beak’d,
With a satin sail of a ruby glow,
To a sweet little Eden on earth that I know,
The Goose
I knew an old wife lean and poor,
Her rags scarce held together;
There strode a stranger to the door,
And it was windy weather. He held a goose upon his arm,
He utter’d rhyme and reason,
“Here, take the goose, and keep you warm,
It is a stormy season”. She caught the white goose by the leg,
A goose–’twas no great matter.
The goose let fall a golden egg
With cackle and with clatter. She dropt the goose, and caught the pelf,
And ran to tell her neighbours;
And bless’d herself, and cursed herself,
The Flower
Once in a golden hour
I cast to earth a seed.
Up there came a flower,
The people said, a weed.
To and fro they went
Thro’ my garden-bower,
And muttering discontent
Cursed me and my flower.
Then it grew so tall
It wore a crown of light,
But thieves from o’er the wall
Stole the seed by night.
Sow’d it far and wide
By every town and tower,
Till all the people cried
`Splendid is the flower.’
Read my little fable:
He that runs may read.
Most can raise the flowers now,
For all have got the seed.
And some are pretty enough,
And some are poor indeed;
