Poem by Dorothy Una Ratcliffe

On Early Rising

THE LOVER:

    Why not rise with dawn, my Lady?
        Why miss these sweet hours?
    Come with me: the ghyll is shady,
        Carpeted with flowers;
        Why miss these sweet hours?

    Now thou liest a-bed, my jewel,
        How canst thou still sleep?
    To encase thyself is cruel—
        Beauty thus to keep.
        How canst thou still sleep?

HIS LADY:

    At this hour, my simple lover,
        I prefer to rest
    Than to watch the tireless plover
        Rise from dewy nest;
        I prefer to rest.

    Beauty such as mine, my lover,
        (This I know is right)
    Even thou wilt soon discover
        Is more meet for night
        (This I know is right).

THE SONG-MAKER:

    In the daytime chirp the thrushes;
        But the nightingale
    Waits until the moonlit hushes
        To pour forth her tale;
        Wiser nightingale!

1. Bargaining
2. Wander-Thirst
3. A Thrush's Song
4. The Swaling of the Moor
5. Song of Good-Bye

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