A Courting Song.

"Master," quoth the auld hound
    "Where will ye go?"
"Over moss, over muir,
    To court my new jo."
"Master, though the night be merk,
    I'se follow through the snow.

"Court her, master, court her,
    So shall ye do weel;
But and ben she'll guide the house,
    I'se get milk and meal.
Ye'se get lilting while she sits
    With her rock and reel."

"For, oh! she has a sweet tongue,
    And een that look down,
A gold girdle for her waist,
    And a purple gown.
She has a good word forbye
    Fra a' folk in the town."

Jean Ingelow

Jean Ingelow was an English poet and novelist known for her popular stories and poems in the 19th century. Her work, including 'Mopsa the Fairy', earned her recognition during her lifetime. She was also involved in the Pre-Raphaelite movement. Ingelow published several poetry collections, with her first in 1863, which was well-received and cemented her reputation as a poet.

Jean Ingelow

Seven Times Three. Love.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

On A Picture.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

Would I, To Save My Dear Child? (Hymn)

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

Bees And Other Fellow-Creatures.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

An Old Wife's Song.

And what will ye hear, my daughters dear? -
    Oh, what will ye hear this night?
Shall I sing you a song of the yuletide cheer,
    Or of lovers and ladies bright?

"Thou shalt sing," they say (for we dwell far away
    From the land where fain would we be),
"Thou shalt sing us again some old-world strain
    That is sung in our own countrie.

"Thou shalt mind us so of the times long ago,
    When we walked on the upland lea,
While the old harbor light waxed faint in the white,
    Long rays shooting out from the sea;

"While lambs were yet asleep, and the dew lay deep
    On the grass, and their fleeces clean and fair.
Never grass was seen so thick nor so green
    As the grass that grew up there!

"In the town was no smoke, for none ther...

Jean Ingelow

Songs Of The Night Watches, - Introductory.

(Old English Manner.)

APPRENTICED.

Come out and hear the waters shoot, the owlet hoot, the owlet hoot;
Yon crescent moon, a golden boat, hangs dim behind the tree, O!
The dropping thorn makes white the grass, O sweetest lass, and sweetest lass;
Come out and smell the ricks of hay adown the croft with me, O!"

"My granny nods before her wheel, and drops her reel, and drops her reel;
My father with his crony talks as gay as gay can be, O!
But all the milk is yet to skim, ere light wax dim, ere light wax dim;
How can I step adown the croft, my 'prentice lad, with thee, O?"

"And must ye bide, yet waiting's long, and love is strong, and love is strong;
And O! had I but served the time, that takes so long to flee, O!
And thou, my lass, by morning's light w...

Jean Ingelow

A Wooing Song.

My fair lady's a dear, dear lady -
    I walked by her side to woo.
In a garden alley, so sweet and shady,
    She answered, "I love not you,
    John, John Brady,"
    Quoth my dear lady,
"Pray now, pray now, go your way now,
    Do, John, do!"

Yet my fair lady's my own, own lady,
    For I passed another day;
While making her moan, she sat all alone,
    And thus, and thus did she say:
    "John, John Brady,"
    Quoth my dear lady,
"Do now, do now, once more woo now.
    Pray, John, pray!"

Jean Ingelow

Songs Of The Night Watches, - Concluding Song Of Dawn.

(Old English Manner.)

A MORN OF MAY.

All the clouds about the sun lay up in golden creases,
(Merry rings the maiden's voice that sings at dawn of day;)
Lambkins woke and skipped around to dry their dewy fleeces,
So sweetly as she carolled, all on a morn of May.

Quoth the Sergeant, "Here I'll halt; here's wine of joy for drinking;
To my heart she sets her hand, and in the strings doth play;
All among the daffodils, and fairer to my thinking,
And fresh as milk and roses, she sits this morn of May."

Quoth the Sergeant, "Work is work, but any ye might make me,
If I worked for you, dear lass, I'd count my holiday.
I'm your slave for good and all, an' if ye will but take me,
So sweetly as ye carol upon this morn of May."

"Medals count for ...

Jean Ingelow

Scotch Song

Oh, forth she went like a braw, braw bride
    To meet her winsome groom,
When she was aware of twa bonny birds
    Sat biggin' in the broom.

The tane it built with the green, green moss,
    But and the bents sae fine,
And the tither wi' a lock o' lady's hair
    Linked up wi' siller twine.

'O whaur gat ye the green, green moss,
    O whaur the bents sae fine?
And whaur gat ye the bonny broun hair
    That ance was tress o' mine?'

'We gat the moss fra' the elditch aile,
    The bents fra' the whinny muir,
And a fause knight threw us the bonny broun hair,
    To please his braw new fere.'

'Gae pull, gae pull the simmer leaves,
    And strew them saft o'er me;
My token's tint, my love is fause,
    I'll lay me doon and dee...

Charles Kingsley

The Shepherd Lady.

I.

Who pipes upon the long green hill,
    Where meadow grass is deep?
The white lamb bleats but followeth on -
    Follow the clean white sheep.
The dear white lady in yon high tower,
    She hearkeneth in her sleep.

All in long grass the piper stands,
    Goodly and grave is he;
Outside the tower, at dawn of day,
    The notes of his pipe ring free.
A thought from his heart doth reach to hers:
    "Come down, O lady! to me."

She lifts her head, she dons her gown:
    Ah! the lady is fair;
She ties the girdle on her waist,
    And binds her flaxen hair,
And down she stealeth, down and down,
    Down the turret stair.

Behold him! With the flock he wons
    Along yon grassy lea.
"My shepherd lord, my shepherd lov...

Jean Ingelow