As I walked thinking through a little grove, Some girls that gathered flowers came passing me, Saying -- "Look here! look there!" delightedly. "O here it is!" "What's that?" "A lily? love!" "And there are violets!" "Farther for roses! O the lovely pets! The darling beauties! O the nasty thorn! Look here, my hand's all torn!" "What's that that jumps?" "O don't! It's a grasshopper!" "Come, run! come, run! Here's bluebells!" "O what fun!" "Not that way! Stop her!" "Yes! this way!" Pluck them then!" "O, I've found mushrooms! O look here!" "O, I'm Quite sure that farther on we'll get wild thyme."
"O, we shall stay too long; it's going to rain; There's lightning; O! there's thunder!" "O shan't we hear the vesper bell? I wonder." "Why, it's not nones, you silly little thing! And don't you hear the nightingales that sing -- Fly away, O die away?" "O, I hear something; hush!" "Why, where? what is it then?" "Ah! in that bush." So every girl here knocks it, shakes and shocks it: Till with the stir they make Out scurries a great snake. "O Lord! O me! Alack! Ah me! Alack!" They scream, and then all run and scream again, And then in heavy drops comes down the rain.
Each running at the other in a fright, Each trying to get before the other, and crying, And flying, and stumbling, tumbling, wrong or right; -- One sets her knee There where her foot should be; One has her hands and dress All smothered up with mud in a fine mess; And one gets trampled on by two or three. What's gathered is let fall About the wood, and not picked up at all. The wreaths of flowers are scattered on the ground, And still as, screaming, hustling, without rest, They run this way and that and round and round, She thinks herself in luck who runs the best.
I stood quite still to have a perfect view, And never noticed till I got wet through.
- by Franco Sacchetti17
'O LITTLE shepherdesses fresh and fair, Say whither do you come so soft and rare? Say, whither lies the land where you were born, Where sweeter fruits than any do betide? With radiant smiles your faces you adorn, Yet neither gold nor silver is your pride, I trow Love fashioned you with him to bide, Angels you seem yet tattered raiment wear! ' 'We live upon a hill beside some trees; Humble our cot, we sleep in tiny bed Both one and all together at our ease When homewards we our gentle flocks have led At eventide; by nature we are fed Day after day in flowery meadows fair.' 95 'Your loveliness might well indeed make moan, Which only among hills and vales is seen, Though the proud cities of the world would own It worthy to hold honourably, I ween! Poor lassies, had you not far happier been Out of these woods in more refinèd air? ' 'Nay, we are well contented with our fate, And, when we tend our flocks in pastures bright, Merrier we are than you who go in state To revel in your chamber shuttered tight; Riches we do not crave nor gold delight, But weave gay songs and garlands for our hair! ' O Ballad, were I now as long ago, I'd be a shepherd lad upon a hill; I'd mark these lassies' goings, but none should know; I'd seek their company with a right good will; For ever we'd be calling 'Jack' and 'Jill,' And wheresoe'er they went I'd follow there.
Poems by Franco Sacchetti, Franco Sacchetti's poems collection. Franco Sacchetti is a classical and famous poet (c. 1335 - c. 1400 / Florence). Share all poems of Franco Sacchetti.