Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Joanna Baillie. 17621851510. The Outlaw’s Song
THE chough and crow to roost are gone, | |
The owl sits on the tree, | |
The hush’d wind wails with feeble moan, | |
Like infant charity. | |
The wild-fire dances on the fen, | 5 |
The red star sheds its ray; | |
Uprouse ye then, my merry men! | |
It is our op’ning day. | |
Both child and nurse are fast asleep, | |
And closed is every flower, | 10 |
And winking tapers faintly peep | |
High from my lady’s bower; | |
Bewilder’d hinds with shorten’d ken | |
Shrink on their murky way; | |
Uprouse ye then, my merry men! | 15 |
It is our op’ning day. | |
Nor board nor garner own we now, | |
Nor roof nor latchèd door, | |
Nor kind mate, bound by holy vow | |
To bless a good man’s store; | 20 |
Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, | |
And night is grown our day; | |
Uprouse ye then, my merry men! | |
And use it as ye may. |