Shady valley

The time was toward the heats of June, And all the mellow afternoon With my ripe heart was just in tune, As I lay a-dreaming.

For yes, my heart was ripe with love; The very airs that stirr’d the grove Blew kisses o’er me from above, As I lay a-dreaming.

The river glided smoothly by— The blue bright bird shot silently Between my covert and the sky As I lay a-dreaming.

By drooping alders doubly bound, The water slid without a sound Until, below the rooted ground Where I lay a-dreaming.

It smote a bank of ruddy loam, Where, underneath, a secret dome Of pebbles fretted it in foam As I lay a-dreaming.

But further, where the stream was wide, The kine were standing side by side Cooling their knees against the tide, As I lay a-dreaming.

And still beyond, were orchards green, Red cottage roofs, and in between Bright meadows, where the scythe had been While I lay a-dreaming.

And over all, the hollow hills, Fill’d with that purple light, which fills Our hearts too with such regal thrills, As we lie a-dreaming.

But my low nest was shut within To such a leafy calm, wherein My thoughts went freely out and in As I lay a-dreaming.

The squirrel on his branch at play— The blossom falling from the may— No creatures moved but such as they, Where I lay a-dreaming.

So sweet a spot, so soft a breeze— Such beauty of enfolding trees! Ah! what could mar my luscious ease As I lay a-dreaming?

A country wench came by, to see Whereas her missing kine should be; And this is what she said to me As I lay a-dreaming:

“Git up, ye dawdlin’ gaspin’ loon! Ah’d liever gang mah waas to t’ toon An’ fettle t’ sheep this efternoon Nor lig theer a-dreamin’!”

I look’d at her in strange surprise: I could not think in anywise She was an angel from the skies, Though I lay a-dreaming.

For oh, too deep was the disguise: The hand with which she veil’d her eyes Seem’d like a Titan’s hand in size, As I lay a-dreaming.

She was a woman though, and young— The very creature I had sung In fancy, with a poet’s tongue, As I lay a-dreaming.

Therefore I spake and answer’d her: “Maiden, you do but come to stir My soul, and make it joyfuller To lie here a-dreaming.

“For you too, gracious as a fawn, By ferny glade and mossy lawn Full oft have loved, at eve or dawn To lie thus a-dreaming.

“And all the interwoven grace Of sound and hue that fill’d the place Has doubtless ‘passed into your face,’ As you lay a-dreaming.

“Oh, you then, nursed in summer woods, And lull’d by rolling waterfloods, Will give me leave, in these high moods, To lie here a-dreaming.”

The maiden stared, but answered not: Yet, striding slowly from the spot, I heard her say—I know not what— As I lay a-dreaming.

“Yon chap’s a snivellin’ tiv hissell, An’ wat he meeans Ah canna tell; He’s daft, Ah doot, or drunk wi’ yell Te lig theer a-dreamin’.”