DULCIMER over the fireboard, hanging sence allusago, Strangers are wishful to buy you, and make of your music a show: Not while the selling a heart for a gold-piece is reckoned a sin, Not while the word of old Enoch still stands as a law for his kin. Grandsir' he made you in Breathitt, the while he was courting a maid. Nary a one of his offsprings, right down to the least one, but played, Played and passed on to his people, with only the song to abide, Long-ago songs of Old England, whose lads we're now fighting beside. There you'll be hanging to greet him, when Jasper comes home from the fight. Nary a letter he's writ us, but he'll be a-coming, all right. Jasper's the last of the Logans. Hit's reason to think that he'll beat, Beat and beget sons and daughters to sing the old songs at his feet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OTHER SPRINGS by ROSEMARY BASEFLUG DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: ISBRAND by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE IMPROVISATORE: THE INDUCTION TO THE SECOND FYTTE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES A ROSE by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN A WORD TO THE 'ELECT' by ANNE BRONTE TO THE WINGED VICTORY by MARGARET ELLIS BROWN THE HOUSE OF CLOUDS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING FOURTH BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 1. A LITTLE BREATH I'LL BORROW by THOMAS CAMPION |