Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
“Come buy our orchard fruits
Come buy come buy:
Apples and quinces
Lemons and oranges
Plump unpeck’d cherries
Melons and raspberries
Bloom-down-cheek’d peaches
Swart-headed mulberries
Wild free-born cranberries
Crab-apples dewberries
Pine-apples blackberries
Apricots strawberries;—
All ripe together
In summer weather—
Morns that pass by
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine
Pomegranates full and fine
Dates and sharp bullaces
Rare pears and greengages
Damsons and bilberries
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries
Bright-fire-like barberries
Figs to fill your mouth
Citrons from the South
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy come buy.”
Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes
Laura bow’d her head to hear
Lizzie veil’d her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather
With clasping arms and cautioning lips
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
“Lie close” Laura said
Pricking up her golden head:
“We must not look at goblin men
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?”
“Come buy” call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
“Oh” cried Lizzie “Laura Laura
You should not peep at goblin men.”
Lizzie cover’d up her eyes
Cover’d close lest they should look;
Laura rear’d her glossy head
And whisper’d like the restless brook:
“Look Lizzie look Lizzie
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket
One bears a plate
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes.”
“No” said Lizzie “No no no;
Their offers should not charm us
Their evil gifts would harm us.”
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat’s face
One whisk’d a tail
One tramp’d at a rat’s pace
One crawl’d like a snail
One like a wombat prowl’d obtuse and furry
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.
Laura stretch’d her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan
Like a lily from the beck
Like a moonlit poplar branch
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.
Backwards up the mossy glen
Turn’d and troop’d the goblin men
With their shrill repeated cry
“Come buy come buy.”
When they reach’d where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss
Leering at each other
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down
One rear’d his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils leaves and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heav’d the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
“Come buy come buy” was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir
Long’d but had no money:
The whisk-tail’d merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey
The cat-faced purr’d
The rat-faced spoke a word
Of welcome and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried “Pretty Goblin” still for “Pretty Polly;”—
One whistled like a bird.
But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
“Good folk I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse
I have no silver either
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather.”
“You have much gold upon your head”
They answer’d all together:
“Buy from us with a golden curl.”
She clipp’d a precious golden lock
She dropp’d a tear more rare than pearl
Then suck’d their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine
Clearer than water flow’d that juice;
She never tasted such before
How should it cloy with length of use?
She suck’d and suck’d and suck’d the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She suck’d until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gather’d up one kernel stone
And knew not was it night or day
As she turn’d home alone.
Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
“Dear you should not stay so late
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie
How she met them in the moonlight
Took their gifts both choice and many
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Pluck’d from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the noonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day
Found them no more but dwindled and grew grey;
Then fell with the first snow
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so.”
“Nay hush” said Laura:
“Nay hush my sister:
I ate and ate my fill
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more;” and kiss’d her:
“Have done with sorrow;
I’ll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold
What peaches with a velvet nap
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow and pure the wave they drink
With lilies at the brink
And sugar-sweet their sap.”
Golden head by golden head
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other’s wings
They lay down in their curtain’d bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem
Like two flakes of new-fall’n snow
Like two wands of ivory
Tipp’d with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars gaz’d in at them
Wind sang to them lullaby
Lumbering owls forbore to fly
Not a bat flapp’d to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Lock’d together in one nest.
Early in the morning
When the first cock crow’d his warning
Neat like bees as sweet and busy
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetch’d in honey milk’d the cows
Air’d and set to rights the house
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat
Next churn’d butter whipp’d up cream
Fed their poultry sat and sew’d;
Talk’d as modest maidens should:
Lizzie with an open heart
Laura in an absent dream
One content one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day’s delight
One longing for the night.
At length slow evening came:
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep;
Lizzie pluck’d purple and rich golden flags
Then turning homeward said: “The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come Laura not another maiden lags.
No wilful squirrel wags
The beasts and birds are fast asleep.”
But Laura loiter’d still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.
And said the hour was early still
The dew not fall’n the wind not chill;
Listening ever but not catching
The customary cry
“Come buy come buy”
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing whisking tumbling hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen
In groups or single
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
Till Lizzie urged “O Laura come;
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise the moon bends her arc
Each glowworm winks her spark
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?”
Laura turn’d cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone
That goblin cry
“Come buy our fruits come buy.”
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life droop’d from the root:
She said not one word in her heart’s sore ache;
But peering thro’ the dimness nought discerning
Trudg’d home her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed and lay
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning
And gnash’d her teeth for baulk’d desire and wept
As if her heart would break.
Day after day night after night
Laura kept watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
“Come buy come buy;”—
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon wax’d bright
Her hair grew thin and grey;
She dwindled as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.
One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dew’d it with tears hoped for a root
Watch’d for a waxing shoot
But there came none;
It never saw the sun
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dream’d of melons as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crown’d trees
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.
She no more swept the house
Tended the fowls or cows
Fetch’d honey kneaded cakes of wheat
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.
Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister’s cankerous care
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins’ cry:
“Come buy our orchard fruits
Come buy come buy;”—
Beside the brook along the glen
She heard the tramp of goblin men
The yoke and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Long’d to buy fruit to comfort her
But fear’d to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in her grave
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime
In earliest winter time
With the first glazing rime
With the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.
Till Laura dwindling
Seem’d knocking at Death’s door:
Then Lizzie weigh’d no more
Better and worse;
But put a silver penny in her purse
Kiss’d Laura cross’d the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight halted by the brook:
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.
Laugh’d every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling
Flying running leaping
Puffing and blowing
Chuckling clapping crowing
Clucking and gobbling
Mopping and mowing
Full of airs and graces
Pulling wry faces
Demure grimaces
Cat-like and rat-like
Ratel- and wombat-like
Snail-paced in a hurry
Parrot-voiced and whistler
Helter skelter hurry skurry
Chattering like magpies
Fluttering like pigeons
Gliding like fishes—
Hugg’d her and kiss’d her:
Squeez’d and caress’d her:
Stretch’d up their dishes
Panniers and plates:
“Look at our apples
Russet and dun
Bob at our cherries
Bite at our peaches
Citrons and dates
Grapes for the asking
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them
Pomegranates figs.”—
“Good folk” said Lizzie
Mindful of Jeanie:
“Give me much and many:—
Held out her apron
Toss’d them her penny.”
“Nay take a seat with us
Honour and eat with us”
They answer’d grinning:
“Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early
Warm and dew-pearly
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry:
Half their bloom would fly
Half their dew would dry
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us
Be welcome guest with us
Cheer you and rest with us.”—
“Thank you” said Lizzie: “But one waits
At home alone for me:
So without further parleying
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many
Give me back my silver penny
I toss’d you for a fee.”—
They began to scratch their pates
No longer wagging purring
But visibly demurring
Grunting and snarling.
One call’d her proud
Cross-grain’d uncivil;
Their tones wax’d loud
Their looks were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her
Elbow’d and jostled her
Claw’d with their nails
Barking mewing hissing mocking
Tore her gown and soil’d her stocking
Twitch’d her hair out by the roots
Stamp’d upon her tender feet
Held her hands and squeez’d their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.
White and golden Lizzie stood
Like a lily in a flood—
Like a rock of blue-vein’d stone
Lash’d by tides obstreperously—
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea
Sending up a golden fire—
Like a fruit-crown’d orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee—
Like a royal virgin town
Topp’d with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguer’d by a fleet
Mad to tug her standard down.
One may lead a horse to water
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuff’d and caught her
Coax’d and fought her
Bullied and besought her
Scratch’d her pinch’d her black as ink
Kick’d and knock’d her
Maul’d and mock’d her
Lizzie utter’d not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:
But laugh’d in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syrupp’d all her face
And lodg’d in dimples of her chin
And streak’d her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people
Worn out by her resistance
Flung back her penny kick’d their fruit
Along whichever road they took
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;
Some writh’d into the ground
Some div’d into the brook
With ring and ripple
Some scudded on the gale without a sound
Some vanish’d in the distance.
In a smart ache tingle
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank tore thro’ the furze
Threaded copse and dingle
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse—
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she fear’d some goblin man
Dogg’d her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin scurried after
Nor was she prick’d by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.
She cried “Laura” up the garden
“Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises
Hug me kiss me suck my juices
Squeez’d from goblin fruits for you
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me drink me love me;
Laura make much of me;
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men.”
Laura started from her chair
Flung her arms up in the air
Clutch’d her hair:
“Lizzie Lizzie have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden
Your young life like mine be wasted
Undone in mine undoing
And ruin’d in my ruin
Thirsty canker’d goblin-ridden?”—
She clung about her sister
Kiss’d and kiss’d and kiss’d her:
Tears once again
Refresh’d her shrunken eyes
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear and pain
She kiss’d and kiss’d her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to scorch
That juice was wormwood to her tongue
She loath’d the feast:
Writhing as one possess’d she leap’d and sung
Rent all her robe and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste
And beat her breast.
Her locks stream’d like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed
Or like the mane of horses in their flight
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun
Or like a caged thing freed
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
Swift fire spread through her veins knock’d at her heart
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame;
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense fail’d in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down
Like a lightning-stricken mast
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about
Like a foam-topp’d waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past
Is it death or is it life?
Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watch’d by her
Counted her pulse’s flagging stir
Felt for her breath
Held water to her lips and cool’d her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirp’d about their eaves
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves
And dew-wet grass
Bow’d in the morning winds so brisk to pass
And new buds with new day
Open’d of cup-like lilies on the stream
Laura awoke as from a dream
Laugh’d in the innocent old way
Hugg’d Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks show’d not one thread of grey
Her breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.
Days weeks months years
Afterwards when both were wives
With children of their own;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears
Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about the haunted glen
The wicked quaint fruit-merchant men
Their fruits like honey to the throat
But poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town):
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good
And win the fiery antidote:
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together
“For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way
To fetch one if one goes astray
To lift one if one totters down
To strengthen whilst one stands.”