Airly Beacon

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
    Oh the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,
    While my love climbed up to me!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
    Oh the happy hours we lay
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
    Courting through the summer's day!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
    Oh the weary haunt for me,
All alone on Airly Beacon,
    With his baby on my knee!

1847.

Charles Kingsley

Charles Kingsley was an English writer, historian, and clergyman born on June 12, 1819, in Holne, Devon. He was associated with the Christian Socialist movement and was a friend of prominent figures such as Charles Darwin. Kingsley is best known for his historical novels, including 'Westward Ho!' and 'Hypatia,' as well as his children's book 'The Water-Babies.' His works often explore social issues and aim to contribute to societal reform. Kingsley died on January 23, 1875, in Eversley, Hampshire.

Charles Kingsley

Valentine's Day

Charles Kingsley, Simple Poetry

In An Illuminated Missal[1]

Charles Kingsley, Simple Poetry

The Three Fishers

Charles Kingsley, Simple Poetry

The Swan-Neck

Charles Kingsley, Simple Poetry

English

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The Summer Sea

    Soft soft wind, from out the sweet south sliding,
Waft thy silver cloud webs athwart the summer sea;
    Thin thin threads of mist on dewy fingers twining
Weave a veil of dappled gauze to shade my babe and me.

    Deep deep Love, within thine own abyss abiding,
Pour Thyself abroad, O Lord, on earth and air and sea;
    Worn weary hearts within Thy holy temple hiding,
Shield from sorrow, sin, and shame my helpless babe and me.

From The Water-Babies.    1862

Charles Kingsley

Lovers, And A Reflection.

In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter
(And heaven it knoweth what that may mean:
Meaning, however, is no great matter)
Where woods are a-tremble, with rifts atween;

Thro' God's own heather we wonn'd together,
I and my Willie (O love my love):
I need hardly remark it was glorious weather,
And flitterbats waver'd alow, above:

Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing,
(Boats in that climate are so polite),
And sands were a ribbon of green endowing,
And O the sundazzle on bark and bight!

Thro' the rare red heather we danced together,
(O love my Willie!) and smelt for flowers:
I must mention again it was gorgeous weather,
Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours:-

By rises that flush'd with their purple favours,
Thro' becks tha...

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A London Idyll

On grass, on gravel, in the sun,
Or now beneath the shade,
They went, in pleasant Kensington,
A prentice and a maid.

That Sunday mornings April glow,
How should it not impart
A stir about the veins that flow
To feed the youthful heart.

Ah! years may come, and years may bring
The truth that is not bliss,
But will they bring another thing
That can compare with this?

I read it in that arm she lays
So soft on his; her mien,
Her step, her very gown betrays
(What in her eyes were seen)
That not in vain the young buds round,
The cawing birds above,
The air, the incense of the ground,
Are whispering, breathing love.

Ah I years may come, &c.

To inclination, young and blind,
So perfect, as they lent,
...

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First Love.

O my earliest love, who, ere I number'd
Ten sweet summers, made my bosom thrill!
Will a swallow - or a swift, or some bird -
Fly to her and say, I love her still?

Say my life's a desert drear and arid,
To its one green spot I aye recur:
Never, never - although three times married -
Have I cared a jot for aught but her.

No, mine own! though early forced to leave you,
Still my heart was there where first we met;
In those "Lodgings with an ample sea-view,"
Which were, forty years ago, "To Let."

There I saw her first, our landlord's oldest
Little daughter. On a thing so fair
Thou, O Sun, - who (so they say) beholdest
Everything, - hast gazed, I tell thee, ne'er.

There she sat - so near me, yet remoter
Than a star - a blue-eyed bashful ...

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Trehill Well

There stood a low and ivied roof,
    As gazing rustics tell,
In times of chivalry and song
    'Yclept the holy well.

Above the ivies' branchlets gray
    In glistening clusters shone;
While round the base the grass-blades bright
    And spiry foxglove sprung.

The brambles clung in graceful bands,
    Chequering the old gray stone
With shining leaflets, whose bright face
    In autumn's tinting shone.

Around the fountain's eastern base
    A babbling brooklet sped,
With sleepy murmur purling soft
    Adown its gravelly bed.

Within the cell the filmy ferns
    To woo the clear wave bent;
And cushioned mosses to the stone
    Their quaint embroidery lent.

The fountain's face lay still as glass--
    Save wh...

Charles Kingsley

A New Forest Ballad

Oh she tripped over Ocknell plain,
    And down by Bradley Water;
And the fairest maid on the forest side
    Was Jane, the keeper's daughter.

She went and went through the broad gray lawns
    As down the red sun sank,
And chill as the scent of a new-made grave
    The mist smelt cold and dank.

'A token, a token!' that fair maid cried,
    'A token that bodes me sorrow;
For they that smell the grave by night
    Will see the corpse to-morrow.

'My own true love in Burley Walk
    Does hunt to-night, I fear;
And if he meet my father stern,
    His game may cost him dear.

'Ah, here's a curse on hare and grouse,
    A curse on hart and hind;
And a health to the squire in all England,
    Leaves never a head behind.'

Charles Kingsley