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The Elfin Bough · Ririro.com - Poetry

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  Speaker 1: The elfin bow. The little lad was grave and good.
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  Speaker 1: He ne'er had had such thoughts before. It happened in
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  Speaker 1: an English wood two hundred years ago, and more two
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  Speaker 1: hundred and two score. A sturdy little lad was he,
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  Speaker 1: who always meant to do the right. His name was
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  Speaker 1: Year of Jubilee. His clear gray eyes first saw the
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  Speaker 1: light the year of naseby fight along the woodland path.
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  Speaker 1: He went upon his errand, trudging slow, his looks upon
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  Speaker 1: the ground were bent between the trunks. The sunset glow
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  Speaker 1: shone red across the snow. It was the eve of
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  Speaker 1: Christmas day, when rigid rules aside were cast by such
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  Speaker 1: as walked the wicked way. His sober household kept afast.
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  Speaker 1: He wished the day were pasted in solemn, fast, small
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  Speaker 1: joy he had, though shamed, he was his thought to speak,
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  Speaker 1: This little hearty, hungry lad, like ripened apple was his cheek,
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  Speaker 1: so round and plump and sleek. Hark, What was that
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  Speaker 1: he starts? He stops the flutter of a rising bird,
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  Speaker 1: a rabbit rustling in the copse, A stiff, sad colored
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  Speaker 1: leaf that stirred. What was the sound he heard? The
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  Speaker 1: light was round her as she stood the slender maid,
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  Speaker 1: so wonder fair in gown of green and velvet hood.
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  Speaker 1: He felt a fear to see her there, so lonely
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  Speaker 1: and so rare. She fixed her starry gaze on him.
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  Speaker 1: I prithee, now, good, lad, said she canst break the
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  Speaker 1: bough with berries dim that springs so high on yonder tree.
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  Speaker 1: Yea verily, cried he, in haste to serve so fair
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  Speaker 1: a maid, He plucked her down the elfin bow, But
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  Speaker 1: once again he waxed, afraid with beating heart, with frowning brow,
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  Speaker 1: he cried, what made art thou? I doubt it is
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  Speaker 1: a heathen thing? My aunt Refrain hath told me that
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  Speaker 1: its leaf is like a leathern wing. It is as
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  Speaker 1: gruesome as a bat, a toad, or brindled cat. Perchance
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  Speaker 1: she is a blue eyed witch that dwelleth in the wood.
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  Speaker 1: He thought, her silken gown is strange and rich in
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  Speaker 1: subtle snare. She hath me caught my ruin, sure is wrought,
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  Speaker 1: good master, roundhead shrink Not so, she said, thou wast
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  Speaker 1: a friend in need to pluck my pearly mistletoe. A
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  Speaker 1: merry Christmas be thy meed for that most gentle deed,
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  Speaker 1: but merry Christmas is no more in English land. I
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  Speaker 1: mind me how we kept the joyful feast of yore
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  Speaker 1: in yon old ivied hall. Whence now I've stolen to
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  Speaker 1: seek this bow. The men and maids, a rosy crowd,
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  Speaker 1: made noisy mirth and thought no sin. With pipe and
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  Speaker 1: tabor beating loud. Ah me with what a joyous din
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  Speaker 1: they brought the yule block in on high the elfin
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  Speaker 1: bow would hang, and surely twas a gleeful game, and
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  Speaker 1: all the walls with laughter rang when Hodge kissed Maul
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  Speaker 1: beneath the same Nor thought the jest a shame. With
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  Speaker 1: plums and spice and citron, sweet Madge cook would work
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  Speaker 1: in cunning. Wise, she kneaded paste, she shredded meat. I
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  Speaker 1: trow thou wouldst have OpEd thine eyes to see the
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  Speaker 1: Christmas pies, good store, good cheer. For many a year
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  Speaker 1: in that old hall had we, she said, But now
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  Speaker 1: the days are grim and drear, the larder's bare, and
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  Speaker 1: mirth is dead. She sighed. She turned, she fled along
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  Speaker 1: the woodland path. She went as swiftly as the speeding dough.
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  Speaker 1: For now the wintry day was spent between the trunks.
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  Speaker 1: The sunset glow grew faint upon the snow, and Little
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  Speaker 1: Year of Jubilee stood still and stared and heaved a sigh.
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  Speaker 1: He thought, perhaps it would not be a grievous sin
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  Speaker 1: to wish that I could dream of Christmas pie