Читать книгу Spider-webs in Verse: A Collection of Lyrics for Leisure Moments, Spun at Idle Hours - Charles William Wallace - Страница 9

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I am plodding down the little lane again

With my trousers rolled above my sunburnt knees;

And I whistle with the mocking-bird and wren

As they chatter in the hedging willow-trees.

And my foot as light and nimble as the airy wings they wear

Trips along the little lane again to-day;

And my bare feet catch the tinkle thro’ the silent summer air

Of the jingle-langle-ingle far away.—

Klangle-ling ke-langle,

Klingle-lang ke-lingle

Dingle-lingle-langle down the dell;

Jingle-langle lingle,

Langle-lingle r-r-angle,

Ringle-langle-lingle of the bell.

From the lane across the prairie o’er the hill

Down a winding little path the cows have made,

In my thought to-night I’m going, going still,—

For the sinking Sun is lengthening its Shade!

And I find them in the hollows—the hollows of the dell

And I find the drowsy cattle in the dell,

By the ringle-rangle-jingle,—the jangle of the bell,

By the ringle and the jangle of the bell.—

Klang-ke-link ge-lingle,

Jangle-ling ke-langle,

Klink ke-langle-lingle down the dell;

Klangle-link ke-langle,

K-link ke-lank ke-lingle,

Lingle-link ke-langle of the bell.

As the cows across the prairie homeward wind

O’er the hill and toward the broadened sinking sun,

Steals a silence o’er the wooded vale behind

Where their shadows, lengthened, darken into one.

And I whistle back the echoes,—the echoes left behind,

That are wand’ring in the tangles of the dell;

And in answer to the message—the message that I wind,

Call the echoes of the klangle of the bell:—

Langle-langle lingle,

Lingle-langle lingle,

Lingle-lingle-langle down the dell;

D-r-r-ingle-langle-langle,

R-r-angle-ringle-langle,

Langle-lingle-r-r-angle of the bell.

At the lighting of the Candles of the Night

When my tangled locks have found the pillow’s rest,

I can hear the langle-lingle, soft and light,

Like the cradle-rocking lulling of the blest.

And upon the ear of Fancy—of Fancy born of Sleep,

Comes the klangle from a distant dreamy Dell;

For the angels lull me dreaming—dreaming in their keep,

To the klingle-langle-lingle of the bell.—

Kling-ge-lang-ge-lingle,

Klangle-lingle-langle,

Langle-lingle-lingle from the dell;

Kling-ge-ling-ge-langle,

Ling-ge-lang-ge-lingle,

Lingle-lingle-langle of the bell.