Down-Adown-Derry Part 2

But, as soon as I stooped in the dim moonlight To put on my stocking and my shoe, The sweet shrill singing echoed faintly away, And the grey of the morning peeped through, And instead of the gnomies there came a red robin To sing of the b.u.t.tercups and dew.

SAM'S THREE WISHES; or LIFE'S LITTLE WHIRLIGIG

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"I'm thinking and thinking," said old Sam Sh.o.r.e, "'Twere somebody _knocking_ I heard at the door."

From the clock popped the cuckoo and cuckooed out eight, As there in his chair he wondering sate ...

"There's no one I knows on would come so late, A-clicking the latch of an empty house With n.o.bbut inside 'un but me and a mouse....

Maybe a-waking in sleep I be, And 'twere out of a dream came that tapping to me."

At length he cautiously rose, and went, And with thumb upon latch awhile listening bent, Then slowly drew open the door. And behold!

There stood a Fairy!--all green and gold, Mantled up warm against dark and cold, And smiling up into his candle s.h.i.+ne, Lips like wax, and cheeks like wine, As saucy and winsome a thing to see As are linden buds on a linden tree.

Stock-still in the doorway stood simple Sam, A-ducking his head, with "Good-e'en to 'ee, Ma'am."

Dame Fairy she nods, and cries clear and sweet, "'Tis a _very_ good-e'en, sir, when such folks meet.

I know thee, Sam, thou though wist not of me, And I'm come in late gloaming to speak with thee; Though my eyes do dazzle at glint of your rush, All under this pretty green fuchsia bush."

Sam ducked once more, smiling simple and slow.

Like the warbling of birds her words did flow, And she laughed, very merry, to see how true Shone the old man's kindness his courtesy through.

And she nodded her head, and the stars on high Sparkled down on her smallness from out of the sky.

"A friend is a friend, Sam, and wonderful pleasant, And I'm come for old sake's sake to bring thee a present.

Three wishes, three wishes are thine, Sam Sh.o.r.e, Just three wishes--and wish no more, All for because, ruby-ripe to see, The pixy-pears burn in yon hawthorn tree, And your old milch cow, wheresoever she goes Never crops over the fairy-knowes.

Ay, Sam, thou art old and thy house is lone, But there's Potencies round thee, and here is one!"

Poor Sam, he stared: and the star o'erhead A s.h.i.+mmering light on the elm-tops shed.

Like rilling of water her voice rang sweet, And the night-wind sighed at the sound of it.

He frowned--glanced back at the empty grate, And shook very slowly his grey old pate: "Three wishes, my dear! Why, I scarcely knows Which be my crany and which my toes!

But I thank 'ee, Ma'am, kindly, and this I'd say, That the night of your pa.s.sing is Michaelmas Day; And if it were company come on a sudden, Why, I'd ax for a fat goose to fry in the oven!"

And lo, and forsooth! as the words he was uttering, A rich puff of air set his candle a-guttering, And there rose in the kitchen a sizzling and sputtering, With a crackling of sparks and of flames a great fluttering, And--of which here could not be two opinions-- A smoking-hot savour of sage and onions.

Beam, wall and flagstones the kitchen was lit, Every dark corner and cranny of it With the blaze from the hearthstone. Copper and bra.s.s Winked back the winking of platter and gla.s.s.

And a wonderful squeaking of mice went up At the smell of a Michaelmas supper to sup-- Unctuous odours that wreathed and swirled Where'er frisked a whisker or mouse-tail twirled, While out of the chimney up into the night That ne'er-to-be-snuffed-too-much smoke took flight.

"That's one," says the Fairy, finger on thumb, "So now, Mister Sam, there's but two to come!"

She leaned her head sidelong; she lifted her chin, With a twinkling of eye from the radiance within.

Poor Sam stood astounded; he says, says he, "I _wish_ my old Mother was back with me, For if there was one thing she couldn't refuse 'Twas a sweet thick slice from the breast of a goose."

But his cheek grew stiff and his eyes stared bright, For there, on her stick, pus.h.i.+ng out of the night, Tap-tapping along, herself and no other, Came who but the shape of his dear old Mother!

Straight into the kitchen she hastened and went, Her breath coming quick as if all but spent.

"Why, Sam," says she, "the bird be turning, For my nose tells I that the skin's a-burning!"

And down at the oven the ghost of her sat And basted the goose with the boiling fat.

"Oho," cries the Fairy, sweet and small, "Another wish gone will leave nothing at all."

And Sam sighs, "Bless 'ee, Ma'am, keep the other, There's nowt that I want now I have my Mother."

But the Fairy laughs softly, and says, says she, "There's one wish left, Sam, I promised 'ee three.

Hasten your wits, the hour creeps on, There's calling afield and I'm soon to be gone.

Soon as haps midnight the c.o.c.ks will crow And me to the gathering and feasting must go."

Sam gazed at his Mother--withered and wan, The rose in her cheek, her bright hair, gone, And her poor old back bent double with years-- And he scarce could speak for the salt, salt tears.

"Well, well," he says, "I'm unspeakable glad: But--it bain't quite the same as when I was a lad.

There's joy and there's joy, Ma'am, but to tell 'ee the truth There's none can compare with the joy of one's youth.

And if it was possible, how could I choose But be back in boy's breeches to eat the goose; And all the old things--and my Mother the most, To s.h.i.+ne again real as my own gatepost.

What wouldn't I give, too, to see again wag The dumpity tail of my old dog, s.h.a.g!

Your kindness, Ma'am, but all wis.h.i.+ng was vain Unless us can both be young again."

A shrill, faint laughter from nowhere came ...

Empty the dark in the candle-flame....

And there stood our Sam, about four foot high, Snub nose, shock hair, and round blue eye.

Breeches and braces and coat of him too, s.h.i.+rt on his back, and each clodhopping shoe Had shrunk to a nicety--b.u.t.ton and hem To fit the small Sammie tucked up into them.

There was his Mother, too; smooth, dear cheek, Lips as smooth as a blackbird's beak, Pretty arched eyebrows, the daintiest nose-- While the smoke of the baking deliciously rose.

"Come, Sammie," she cries, "your old Mammikin's joy, Climb up on your stool, supper's ready, my boy.

Bring in the candle, and shut out the night; There's goose, baked taties and cabbage to bite.

Why, bless the wee lamb, he's all s.h.i.+ver and shake, And you'd think from the look of him scarcely awake!

If 'ee glour wi' those eyes, Sam, so dark and round, The elves will away with 'ee, I'll be bound!"

So Sam and his Mother by wishes three Were made just as happy as happy can be.

And there--with a b.u.mpity tail to wag-- Sat laughing, with tongue out, their old dog, s.h.a.g.

To clatter of patter, bones, giblets and juice, Between them they ate up the whole of the goose.

But time is a river for ever in flow, The weeks went by as the weeks must go.

Soon fifty-two to a year did grow.

The long years pa.s.sed, one after another, Making older and older our Sam and his Mother; And, alas and alack, with nine of them gone, Poor s.h.a.g lay asleep again under a stone.

And a sorrowful dread would sometimes creep Into Sam's dreams, as he lay asleep, That his Mother was lost, and away he'd fare, Calling her, calling her, everywhere, In dark, in rain, by roads unknown, Under echoing hills, and alone, alone.

What bliss in the morning to wake and see The sun s.h.i.+ning green in the linden tree, And out of that dream's dark shadowiness To slip in on his Mother and give her a kiss, And go whistling off in the dew to hear The thrushes all mocking him, sweet and clear.

Still, moon after moon from heaven above Shone on Mother and son, and made light of love.

Her roses faded, her pretty brown hair Had sorrowful grey in it everywhere.

And at last she died, and was laid to rest, Her tired hands crossed on her shrunken breast.

And Sam, now lonely, lived on and on Till most of his workaday life seemed gone.

Yet spring came again with its green and blue, And presently summer's wild roses too, Pinks, Sweet William, and sops-in-wine, Blackberry, lavender, eglantine.

And when these had blossomed and gone their way, 'Twas apples, and daisies and Michaelmas Day-- Yes, spider-webs, dew, and haws in the may, And seraphs singing in Michaelmas Day.

Sam worked all morning and _couldn't_ get rest For a kind of a feeling of grief in his breast.

And yet, not grief, but something more Like the thought that what happens has happened before.

He fed the chickens, he fed the sow, On a three-legged stool sate down to the cow, With a pail 'twixt his legs in the green in the meadow, Under the elm trees' lengthening shadow; And woke at last with a smile and a sigh To find he had milked his poor Jingo dry.

As dusk set in, even the birds did seem To be calling and calling from out of a dream.

He chopped up kindling, shut up his shed, In a bucket of well-water soused his head To freshen his eyes up a little and make The drowsy old wits of him wider awake.

As neat as a womanless creature is able He swept up his hearthstone and laid the table.

And then o'er his platter and mug, if you please, Sate gloomily gooming at loaf and cheese-- Gooming and gooming as if the mere sight Of his victuals could satisfy appet.i.te!

And the longer and longer he looked at them The slimmer slimmed upward his candle flame, Blue in the air. And when squeaked a mouse 'Twas loud as a trump in the hush of the house.

Then, sudden, a soft little wind puffed by, 'Twixt the thick-thatched roof and the star-sown sky; And died. And then That deep, dead, wonderful silence again.