A Ballad of Good Intentions
Four children played by an old oak tree,
Big John and James and little Benjie,
And, threading a chain of daisies fine,
On the leaf-brown sward knelt Geraldine.
Quoth John, "I'll ride on the gipsies' road,
For narrow space and a small abode
Would break this vagrant heart in me,
And the world is wide and good to see."
"I'll stay," said James, "for my father's sake
From his ageing hand his toil to take,
So he have at last his heart's desire
To sit at ease by the glowing fire."
"I shall not work," said little Benjie,
"Nor roam the world that is fair to see;
But here I'll stay in the green beech wood,
By my mother's side and I'll just be good."
Linking her chain sweet Geraldine said,
"Big John or James I will surely wed;
I soon must choose which shall best please me,
I care not at all for little Benjie."
The oak grows brown and the oak grows green
The owl and thrush on her branch have been;
For fifty winters a snood of snow
She wears all white till the spring winds blow.
For fifty autumns a robe of red
She wears till the wet west wind has fled,
But ne'er from dawn till the dusk of day
Hath she heard the sound of a child at play.
Big John grows old and all full of care,
He works till night in his oaken chair;
His feet have led him not long nor late,
No more than a league from his father's gate.
Where yew trees wave and their dark leaves shed
Young James lies cold in his four-foot bed,
O soft did his father lay him down,
And over him drew the earth so brown
In a far-off land on a lonely height
Geraldine weeps full many a night,
And prays all day 'neath a gallows tree
Where hangs the corpse of little Benjie.
