Hunting Song

Up, up! ye dames and lasses gay!
To the meadows trip away.

Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
And scare the small birds from the corn,
Not a soul at home may stay:

For the shepherds must go
With lance and bow

To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

Leave the hearth and leave the house
To the cricket and the mouse:
Find grannam out a sunny seat,
With babe and lambkin at her feet.
Not a soul at home may stay:
For the shepherds must go
With lance and bow

To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Hie Away

Hie

away, hie away!

Over bank and over brae,

Where the copsewood is the greenest,
Where the fountains glisten sheenest,
Where the lady fern grows strongest,
Where the morning dew lies longest,

Where the blackcock sweetest sips it,
Where the fairy latest trips it:
Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,
Over bank and over brae,

Hie away, hie away!

Sir Walter Scott.

And I made a rural pen;

And I stained the water clear And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.

William Blake.