THE HIDING AWAY OF BLESSED ANGUS
The hills were blue, the hills were gray,
The hills were rosier than the morn;
Thin veils of gold and silver lay
On emerald fields and fields of corn:
All purple on a sky of glass
A lovelier line there never was.
The hills were rosier than the morn;
Thin veils of gold and silver lay
On emerald fields and fields of corn:
All purple on a sky of glass
A lovelier line there never was.
Down from the Vale of Thrushes came
That flight of carolling birds, which lit
Where Angus was, and named his name,
With a clear chorus after it:
And perching on his gown to sing,
They clad him like a feathered thing.
That flight of carolling birds, which lit
Where Angus was, and named his name,
With a clear chorus after it:
And perching on his gown to sing,
They clad him like a feathered thing.
Sweet, sweet! the garrulous blackbird trilled,
Have you not heard, have you not heard
How Anigus, more than mortal skilled,
And more than any singing bird,
Toils in the trenches like a churl?
The Convent dunghill hath its pearl.
Have you not heard, have you not heard
How Anigus, more than mortal skilled,
And more than any singing bird,
Toils in the trenches like a churl?
The Convent dunghill hath its pearl.
He sang it at the Abbot's ear,
Who, by his casement in the light
Painted a missal fair and clear
With apple-blooms of rose and white.
"Seldom," he murmured, "have I heard
So noisy and so bold a bird."
Who, by his casement in the light
Painted a missal fair and clear
With apple-blooms of rose and white.
"Seldom," he murmured, "have I heard
So noisy and so bold a bird."
At last the secret in this wise
Came to the light. A little lad,
A schoolboy with meek, innocent eyes,
Like those the patient oxen had,
Came to the light. A little lad,
A schoolboy with meek, innocent eyes,
Like those the patient oxen had,
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