The Poetical Works of George MacDonald
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Once I was a child,
Oimè!
Full of frolic wild;
Oimè!
All the stars for glancing,
- All
- the earth for dancing; Oimè! Oimè!
When I ran about,
Oimè!All the flowers came out,
Oimè!
Here and there like stray things, Just to be my playthings. Oimè! Oimè!Mother's eyes were deep, Oimè!
Never needing sleep.
Oimè!
Morning--they're above me! Eventide--they love me! Oimè! Oimè!Father was so tall!
Oimè!
Stronger he than all!
Oimè!
On his arm he bore me,
Queen of all before me. Oimè! Oimè!Mother is asleep;
Oimè!
- For
- her eyes so deep,
Oimè!Grew so tired and aching, They could not keep waking. Oimè! Oimè!
Father, though so strong, Oimè!
Laid him down along--
Oimè!
By my mother sleeping;
- And
- they left me weeping, Oimè! Oimè!
- Now
- nor bird, nor bee,
Oimè!Ever sings to me!
Oimè!
Since they left me crying,
- All
- things have been dying. Oimè! Oimè!
[LILY looks long in her mother's face, as if wondering what the song could be about; then turns away to the closet. After a little she comes running with a box in her hand.]
Lily.
O mother, mother! there's the old box I had So long ago, and all my cups and saucers, And the farm-house and cows.--Oh! some are broken. Father will mend them for me, I am sure. I'll ask him when he comes to-night--I will: He can do everything, you know, dear mother.