Читать книгу The Children's Garland from the Best Poets - Various - Страница 9

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Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon;

Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

All with weary task foredone.

Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the scritch owl, scritching loud,

Puts the wretch that lies in woe,

In remembrance of a shroud.

Now it is the time of night

That the graves, all gaping wide,

Every one lets forth his sprite,

In the churchway paths to glide:

And we fairies, that do run,

By the triple Hecate's team,

From the presence of the sun,

Following darkness like a dream,

Now are frolic; not a mouse

Shall disturb this hallowed house:

I am sent with broom before,

To sweep the dust behind the door.

Through the house give glimmering light;

By the dead and drowsy fire,

Every elf and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier;

And this ditty after me,

Sing and dance it trippingly.

First rehearse this song by rote,

To each word a warbling note,

Hand in hand, with fairy grace,

We will sing, and bless this place.

W. Shakespeare