Frederick George Scott

COLLECTED POEMS


 

Lovelorn



Love met a swain that drove his load,
    When evening shades were falling,
And in the trees above the road
    The rooks were loudly calling.

He sauntered by his lumbering cart,
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    A simple swain and burly,
Ill formed to play a lover’s part,
    His manners coarse and surly.

He did not see the autumn gold
    That strewed the leafy alley,

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He cared not for the tints untold
    That lit the sunset valley.

His buskins were all grey with dust,
    His smock was black and gritty;
Though in his mouth a pipe was thrust,
15
    He hummed a country ditty.

‘Good morrow, gentle sir,’ said Love,
    ‘I fear you’ll count me stupid,’
(The rooks laughed in the trees above—
    They knew the voice of Cupid).
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‘I’ve lost my way, good sir, to-night,
    And don’t know where to find it;
You see that hill that fades from sight,
    My house lies just behind it.

‘O, good sir, as your heart is true,
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    Take pity on my sorrow;
Let me to-night go home with you,
    And I will leave to-morrow.’

The swain, content a friend to see,
    Though wishing he were older,
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‘Get up, my little man,’ quoth he,
    And perched him on his shoulder. [Page 112]

Ah me! how sweet that evening walk,
    With young Love softly smiling
Upon his arm, and with fair talk
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    The weary hours beguiling.

Poor swain, he saw with wondering eyes
    The valley filled with splendour,
And in the love-light of the skies
    His heart grew soft and tender.
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But on the morrow Love had gone,
    Since then he comes back never;
The simple heart he rested on
    Now aches and aches for ever. [Page 113]