Verse > Anthologies > T. H. Ward, ed. > The English Poets > Vol. IV. Wordsworth to Rossetti
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Thomas Humphry Ward, ed.  The English Poets.  1880–1918.
Vol. IV. The Nineteenth Century: Wordsworth to Rossetti
 
The Chough and Crow
By Joanna Baillie (1762–1851)
 
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 opening day.
 
Both child and nurse are fast asleep,
  And closed is every flower,        10
The winking tapers faintly peep
  High from my lady’s bower;
Bewildered hinds with shortened ken
  Shrink in their murky way.
Uprouse ye, then, my merry men!        15
  It is our opening day.
 
Nor board nor garner own we now,
  Nor roof nor latched 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!
  It is our opening day.
 
 
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