Merrymind

written by James Hebblethwaite

Merrymind

— James Hebblethwaite

MERRYMIND, Merrymind, whither art thou roaming?
Merrymind, Merrymind, nay, art thou sleeping yet?
Oh, to us, sweet minstrel dear, wilt thou not be homing?
Or we shall forget.
Vale of toil so waste and drear, hear him now advancing,
Playing on the golden strings, the midnight maiden’s boon;
Breaks the sunshine on the hills, the princess falls to dancing
In a bridal noon!

Oh, the joyfulness and kissing of that fiddle’s flowings,
Giving rest and happiness, and laughter delicate!
Fling out from this iron world to his merry bowings,
Oh, be not too late!

Lancelot, Lancelot, ride with song and gleaming
Robin, wind in greenwood shaw thy dreaming silvery horn,
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair a-beaming,
Yellow as the corn!

Pride, begone, thou hateful curse of narrowed blood and breeding,
Cruel growth of heaviness and dull, cold ignorance;
Come, thou golden Charity, lend to us thy leading
In a sunny dance!

More poem by this poet


Poem of the Day

Epistle To William Simson

Robert Burns

I GAT your letter, winsome Willie;
Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie;
Tho' I maun say't, I wad be silly,
And unco vain,
Should I believe, my coaxin billie
Your flatterin strain.

Read Full Poem

Poet of the Day

William Roscoe

He was born in Liverpool, where his father, a market gardener, kept a public house called the Bowling Green at Mount Pleasant. Roscoe left school at the age of twelve, having learned all that his schoolmaster could teach. He assisted...

Read Full Biography