Middletown transcript., 1868-10-10
Selett. poetrp.
COCK-CROW.
@ From Homespun.


q From ,Homespun.
CoeR-A-DoODLE-Dol
Where away is the morn,
That you sound your claron-hornP
Not streak of light in the east,
Nor the faintest ray
Of dappled gray
Is yet to be seen,-not the least.
Three o'clock THAT is all;
And still you sound your call
To all within the house TO wake,
And into their hearts their burdens take,
Before ever the day is born
There IL not sign of the dawn;
The stars are burning out, 'tis true,
But no eyes see the day yet coming through;
The world is fast asleep in the dark;
Not so much as the sound of the watch
dogs bark;
And still this Cock-a-doodle-dO |
Cock-a- -doodle-doi
The first rich ray of red
Has fallen across the she'd:
And, from his perch, once more the call
Of the wardcr that keeps watch for us all.
Shrill, and clear, and high is the note
From out that regal throat.
Pulsing its echoes everywhere
Through the frosty morning air,
Down the valley clear to the mill,
And away to the top of the nearest hill.
And the boards of the floor crclk overhead
The horse looks out from his darkencd STALL
Like lord from the door of his custle-hall
Over the roof curls up the smoke
That tells of the stir of thrifty folk;
The hens ON their perches crowd along,
Aroused by their lords resounding song.
And now the suns clear golden ray
Falls through the barn-chincks on the hay;
Into the pals full many stream
Of milk, that is rich with cotted cream,
Riddles the foam in a zigzag line,
As sweet as the breath of the yarded kline.
Cock-a-doodlc-doi
There he is, on the garden gate,
Crest erect, and spirit cutc;
The rain has been falling all the day
And no eye can now thread its way
To any rift or lift in the clouds
That pack the concave in such crowds -
But the chanticlecr he secs the sign
Where wisest men can read no line;
A prophet, with an instinct high,
He keeps tho secret Of the sky,-
A favorite child of Nature he,
That knows the heart of her mystery.
And at that Cock-l-doodle-do,
And chcery flap of pinions, too,
The household to the windows go,
In answer to the call they know =
The sky grows brighter, and the blue
Comes forth at Cock-,i-doodle-do!
Cock-a-doodle-dol
The rival he has overthrown
Goes reeling to his roost alone;
And he, the royal conqucro.,
With bloody ruff about his throat,
Sends forth his strong, defiant note
To Chandeliers near and remote,
On every farmer broad barn-hoor.
No shouts from the walls of proud old Troy
We're ever given with half the JOY
That fills the heart of this brave bird,
As he makes the news of his victory heard.
You'd think he was some baron bold,
From whom the rest their tenures hold,
Proclaiming, on the garden wall,
His feudal watch and ward for all.
Cock-a-doodle-1o!
No house is homc without that horn
To sound the hours, from dawn to dawn,
Before the eye rise curling smokes,
That come from fires of country folks
A stack of roofs, low, wide door,
The thump of fails on II big barn-hoor-
A tented field of corn hard by,
About whose stacks great pumpkins lie,-
Hens nests snug hidden in the hay,
And children hunting half the day
A garden filled with fruits and flowers,
Where birds make musical the hours,--
Good cheer, warm welcomes, and bright fres
That fill the wishing hearts desires
oh, Chanticleer brave Chantclcerl
Thy voice rings through all History;
Outstarting from the mystery
OF Indian jungles, dark and drear,
Thy path has lain through Greece and Rome
To tile doorOf every farmers home;
They stamped thee on their ancient coins,
And offered thee in sacrifice
Unto their heather deities,
That sprung from Hydrologic loins:
And "Platos man" thou vert, we know,
Above two thousand years ago;
And Peter felt his shameful lie
Reproved by thy shril, chiding cry
And went out weeping bitterly.
Thy note sends every ghost to bed
Afraid to show its guilty head
When the shadows OF the night have sped.
They set the on thee IA alstsplrcs,
Above the fog of earths desires,
A sort of lookout in the sky,
Interpreter of wet and dry,
And cheering souls to victory.
Thy Cock-a-doodlc-do, it rings
Through Winters, Autumns, Summers, Sprip
Al every hearth, in every heart,
Tho ieAderest feelings take start:
Thou mayst not be the bird of Jove,-
Thou art a bird that all men love:
There is no fowl that walks the peer
Of strutting growing Chaniclecri