The Project Gutenberg eBook, Bread and Circuses, by Helen Parry Eden This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: Bread and Circuses Author: Helen Parry Eden Release Date: February 26, 2020 [eBook #61517] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAD AND CIRCUSES*** E-text prepared by Tim Lindell, Paul Marshall, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/breadcircuses00edeniala BREAD AND CIRCUSES BY HELEN PARRY EDEN LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY TORONTO: BELL & COCKBURN MCMXIV WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH ERRATA Page 4, line 11, for “about” read “above.” ” 15, ” 5, for “who” read “Who.” ” 55, ” 11, for “saw I” read “saw that I.” ” 87, ” 15, for “Close” read “close.” TO THE MEMORY OF MY SISTER JOAN ABBOTT PARRY THESE, AND MUCH MORE [Pg vii] NOTE Of the verses contained in this book, the greater part have already appeared, notably in the Westminster Gazette, The Englishwoman, The Daily Chronicle, The Catholic Messenger, The Pall Mall Magazine, T.P.’s Magazine, and Punch. To the proprietors of Punch I am especially indebted for leave to reprint thirteen numbers of which they own the copyright. H. P. E. [Pg viii] [Pg ix] CONTENTS PAGE The Brook along the Romsey Road 3 The Poet and the Wood-louse 5 “Jam Hiems Transiit” 7 “Vox Clamantis” 8 Sorrow 9 The Mulberry 10 The Window-sill 11 The Angelus-bell 12 The Apple-man from Awbridge 13 Of Dulcibel 15 The Lady Pheasant 16 Time’s Tyranness 17 The Ginger Cat 19 Μονοχρόνος Ἡδόνη 21 A Song in a Lane 22 Cries of London 23 The Third Birthday 25 One-eyed Jocko 26 A Suburban Night’s Entertainment 27 “A Purpose of Amendment” 30 Helena to Hermia 31 “Effany” 32 The Ark 34 An Upland Station 36 The Worshippers 38 Lines to a Journalist, on his Praising a Noble Lord Recently Created 39 The Belgian Pinafore 41 The Wind 43 To Betsey-Jane, on her Desiring to go incontinently to Heaven 45 In Bethlehem Town 46 The Moon 48 A Lady of Fashion on the Death of her Dog 49 To a Little Girl 51 Lines written for D. E. in a copy of “The Child’s Garden of Verses” 52 Epistle to Thomas Black, Cat to the Soane Museum 53 For My Mother, with a New Button-box 56 A Child before the Crib 57 To Mass at Dawn 59 The Nuns’ Chapel 60 The Snare 61 A House in a Wood 63 The Confessional 65 Epitaph on a Child, run over and Killed by a Motor-car in the street 67 [Pg x] [Pg xi] The Water-meads of Mottisfont 70 The Senior Mistress of Blyth 72 The First Party 75 Souvenir of Michael Drayton 77 “Four-paws” 79 “Four-paws” in London 81 To my Sister Dorothy, with a Paste Brooch 83 Sestina, to D. E. 84 Lullaby for a Little Girl 86 Rondeau of Sarum Close 87 The Knobby-green 88 The Carcanet 89 To a Town Crier 90 The Tale of Jocko, a Story for a Child 91 The Wag-tail 98 High Tide at Battersea 100 To my Daughter, who tells me she can Dress Herself 101 The Baby Goat 103 Bournemouth to Poole: (1) Bournemouth 105 (2) Poole Harbour 105 The Japanese Duckling 107 The Privet Hedge 108 The Vegetarian’s Daughter 109 Honey Meadow 110 An Elegy, for Father Anselm, of the Order of Reformed Cistercians, Guest-master and Parish Priest 112 The Regret 117 First Snow 118 To a Child Returning Home upon a Windy Day 119 The Death of Sir Matho 120 The Petals 124 Post-Communion 126 Index to First Lines 127 [Pg xii] [Pg 1] [Pg 2] BREAD AND CIRCUSES THE BROOK ALONG THE ROMSEY ROAD The brook along the Romsey road With cresses fringed about, Holds waving fins and streaming weeds And bubbles bright as crystal beads And root-bound reaches whither speeds Startled the shadowy trout. As southward runs the Romsey road The sunny wind blows harsh With yellow shale and whirling sands That sting the faces and the hands Of us who leave the wooded lands Of pleasant Michelmarsh. Where southward runs the Romsey road Southward lagged Betsey-Jane Clutching my hand, and still the grit Lay rough between our fingers, it Smarted on Betsey’s face and knit Her little brows with pain. A bend was in the Romsey road, Shut off by elms the wind Was stilled, below a bridge the brook Came dimpling forth, and Betsey shook Her fingers free and ran to look,— I held her frock behind. On the far shore a wag-tail dipped His beak,—we gazed below, And Betsey was content to stand And see the trout and hold my hand, And watch them wave above the sand Until we turned to go. The brook along the Romsey road With cresses fringed about Ran all day long in Betsey’s head, She played at wag-tails while she fed, And even as she went to bed She babbled of the trout. [Pg 3] [Pg 4] [Pg 5] THE POET AND THE WOOD-LOUSE A portly Wood-louse, full of cares, Transacted eminent affairs Along a parapet where pears Unripened fell And vines embellished the sweet airs With muscatel. Day after day beheld him run His scales a-twinkle in the sun About his business never done; Night’s slender span he Spent in the home his wealth had won— A red-brick cranny. Thus, as his Sense of Right directed, He lived both honoured and respected, Cherished his children and protected His duteous wife, And nought of diffidence deflected His useful life. One mid-day, hastening to his Club, He spied beside a water-tub The owner of each plant and shrub A humble Bard Who turned upon the conscious grub A mild regard. “Eh?” quoth the Wood-louse, “Can it be A Higher Power looks down to see My praiseworthy activity And notes me plying My Daily Task?—Not strange, dear me, But gratifying!” To whom the Bard: “I still divest My orchard of the Insect Pest, That you are such is manifest, Prepare to die.— And yet, how sweetly does your crest Reflect the sky! “Go then forgiven, (for what ails Your naughty life this fact avails To pardon) mirror in your scales Celestial blue, Till the sun sets and the light fails The skies and you.” May all we proud and bustling parties Whose lot in forum, street and mart is Stand in conspectu Deitatis And save our face, Reflecting where our scaly heart is Some skyey grace. [Pg 6] [Pg 7] “JAM HIEMS TRANSIIT” When the wind blows without the garden walls Where from high vantage of the budding boughs The wanton starling claps his wing and brawls And finches to their half-erected house Trail silver straws; when on the sand-pit verges The young lambs leap, when clouds on sunny tiles Pass and re-pass, then the young Spring emerges From Winter’s fingers panoplied with smiles. So some bright demoiselle but late returning To her old home with new-acquirèd graces Learnt in some strait academy and burning To kindle wonderment in homely faces Smileth, while she who taught her all her arts, The dark duenna, with a sigh departs. [Pg 8] “VOX CLAMANTIS” How late in the wet twilight doth that bird Prolong his ditty; from what darkling thorn, Dim elder wand or blackest box unstirred By drip of rain, is the dear descant borne? So late it is, two seeming candles shine Athwart blue panes in the extremest hedge, Ev’n the child’s bunch of daisies close their eyne In their horn goblet on the window ledge. Sad is the night, doth it so smell of spring And wake such ardours in thy pelted breast? Aye, thou wert ever one to stay and sing Of surgent East to the declining West:— And now thou’rt gone, the last of a bright breed, Draw-to the curtains, it is night indeed. [Pg 9] SORROW Of Sorrow, ’tis as Saints have said— That his ill-savoured lamp shall shed A light to Heaven, when, blown about By the world’s vain and windy rout, The candles of delight burn out. Then usher Sorrow to thy board, Give him such fare as may afford Thy single habitation—best To meet him half-way in his quest, The importunate and sad-eyed guest. Yet somewhat should he give who took Thy hospitality, for look, His is no random vagrancy, Beneath his rags what hints there be Of a celestial livery. Sweet Sorrow, play a grateful part, Break me the marble of my heart And of its fragments pave a street Where, to my bliss, myself may meet One hastening with piercèd feet. [Pg 10] THE MULBERRY Within our garden walls you see A huge old-fashioned mulberry Whose purple fruit in summer falls Into the shade below the walls. Its blackened trunk grows grim and hard From the harsh gravel of the yard, Its crest beholds the winds go by And scans the milky evening sky. And like this tree my soul makes mirth, (Though rooted deep in blackened earth) For it shall grow till it hath sight (The walls o’er-topped) of endless light. [Pg 11] THE WINDOW-SILL The fuchsias dangle on their stem, The baby girl looks up at them, The light comes through the muslin frill Upon the painted window-sill. She cannot see the world outside Where men in snorting motors ride, Each speeding from his far abode To town, along the Fulham Road. [Pg 12] THE ANGELUS-BELL My night-dress hangs on fire-guard rail And my cup of milk on the table stands, The day goes down like a distant sail And leaves me undressed in my Mother’s hands. She has washed me clean of the long day’s grime And the pillow is cool for my sleepy head, For the Angelus-bell with its three-fold chime Has tolled the sun and myself to bed. [Pg 13]