: Fires - Book 3: The Hare and Other Tales by Gibson Wilfrid Wilson - English poetry; Stories in rhyme

@FreeBooksWed 07 Jun, 2023

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The Dancing Seal The Slag Devil's Edge The Lilac Tree The Old Man The Hare

FIRES

THE DANCING SEAL

When we were building Skua Light-- The first men who had lived a night Upon that deep-sea Isle-- As soon as chisel touched the stone, The friendly seals would come ashore; And sit and watch us all the while, As though they'd not seen men before; And so, poor beasts, had never known Men had the heart to do them harm. They'd little cause to feel alarm With us, for we were glad to find Some friendliness in that strange sea; Only too pleased to let them be And sit as long as they'd a mind To watch us: for their eyes were kind Like women's eyes, it seemed to me.

So, hour on hour, they sat: I think They liked to hear the chisels' clink: And when the boy sang loud and clear, They scrambled closer in to hear; And if he whistled sweet and shrill, The queer beasts shuffled nearer still: But every sleek and sheeny skin Was mad to hear his violin.

When, work all over for the day, He'd take his fiddle down and play His merry tunes beside the sea, Their eyes grew brighter and more bright, And burned and twinkled merrily: And as I watched them one still night, And saw their eager sparkling eyes, I felt those lively seals would rise Some shiny night ere he could know, And dance about him, heel and toe, Unto the fiddle's heady tune.

And at the rising of the moon, Half-daft, I took my stand before A young seal lying on the shore; And called on her to dance with me. And it seemed hardly strange when she Stood up before me suddenly, And shed her black and sheeny skin; And smiled, all eager to begin... And I was dancing, heel and toe, With a young maiden white as snow, Unto a crazy violin.

We danced beneath the dancing moon, All night, beside the dancing sea, With tripping toes and skipping heels: And all about us friendly seals Like Christian folk were dancing reels Unto the fiddle's endless tune That kept on spinning merrily As though it never meant to stop. And never once the snow-white maid A moment stayed To take a breath, Though I was fit to drop: And while those wild eyes challenged me, I knew as well as well could be I must keep step with that young girl, Though we should dance to death.

Then with a skirl The fiddle broke: The moon went out: The sea stopped dead: And, in a twinkling, all the rout Of dancing folk had fled... And in the chill bleak dawn I woke Upon the naked rock, alone.

They've brought me far from Skua Isle... I laugh to think they do not know That as, all day, I chip the stone, Among my fellows here inland, I smell the sea-wrack on the shore... And see her snowy-tossing hand, And meet again her merry smile... And dream I'm dancing all the while, I'm dancing ever, heel and toe, With a seal-maiden, white as snow, On that moonshiny Island-strand, For ever and for evermore.

THE SLAG

Among bleak hills of mounded slag they walked, 'Neath sullen evening skies that seemed to sag O'er-burdened by the belching smoke, and lie Upon their aching foreheads, dense and dank, Till both felt youth within them fail and flag-- Even as the flame which shot a fiery rag A fluttering moment through the murky sky Above the black blast-furnaces, then sank Again beneath the iron bell close-bound-- And it was all that they could do to drag Themselves along, 'neath that dead-weight of smoke, Over the cinder-blasted, barren ground. Though fitfully and fretfully she talked, He never turned his eyes to her, or spoke: And as he slouched with her along the track That skirted a stupendous, lowering mound, With listless eyes, and o'er-strained sinews slack, She bit a petted, puckered lip, and frowned To think she ever should be walking out With this tongue-tied, slow-witted, hulking lout, As cold and dull and lifeless as the slag.

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