True Thomas laid his harp away,
And louted low at the saddle-side;
He has taken stirrup and hauden rein,
And set the King on his horse o' pride.
"Sleep ye or wake," True Thomas said,
"That sit so still, that muse so long?
"Sleep ye or wake? till the Latter Sleep
"I trow ye'll not forget my song.
"I ha' harpit a shadow out o' the sun
"To stand before your face and cry;
"I ha' armed the earth beneath your heel,
"And over your head I ha' dusked the sky.
"I ha' harpit ye up to the Throne o' God,
"I ha' harpit your midmost soul in three;
"I ha' harpit ye down to the Hinges o' Hell,
"And ye would make a Knight o' me!'
THE SONS OF MARTHA
THE Sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part;
But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and the troubled heart.
And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,
Her Sons must wait upon Mary's Sons, world without end, reprieve, or rest.
It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.
It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.
