The Poetry Corner

Down-Adown-Derry

By Walter De La Mare

Down-adown-derry, Sweet Annie Maroon, Gathering daisies In the meadows of Doone, Hears a shrill piping, Elflike and free, Where the waters go brawling In rills to the sea; Singing down-adown-derry. Down-adown-derry, Sweet Annie Maroon, Through the green grasses Peeps softly; and soon Spies under green willows A fairy whose song Like the smallest of bubbles Floats bobbing along; Singing down-adown-derry. Down-adown-derry, Her cheeks were like wine, Her eyes in her wee face Like water-sparks shine, Her niminy fingers Her sleek tresses preen, The which in the combing She peeps out between; Singing down-adown-derry. Down-adown-derry, Shrill, shrill was her tune: - "Come to my water-house, Annie Maroon: Come in your dimity, Ribbon on head, To wear siller seaweed And coral instead"; Singing down-adown-derry. "Down-adown-derry, Lean fish of the sea, Bring lanthorns for feasting The gay Farie; 'Tis sand for the dancing, A music all sweet In the water-green gloaming For thistledown feet"; Singing down-adown-derry. Down-adown-derry, Sweet Annie Maroon Looked large on the fairy Curled wan as the moon And all the grey ripples To the Mill racing by, With harps and with timbrels Did ringing reply; Singing down-adown-derry. "Down-adown-derry," Sang the Fairy of Doone, Piercing the heart Of Sweet Annie Maroon; And lo! when like roses The clouds of the sun Faded at dusk, gone Was Annie Maroon; Singing down-adown-derry. Down-adown-derry, The daisies are few; Frost twinkles powdery In haunts of the dew; And only the robin Perched on a thorn, Can comfort the heart Of a father forlorn; Singing down-adown-derry. Down-adown-derry, There's snow in the air; Ice where the lily Bloomed waxen and fair; He may call o'er the water, Cry - cry through the Mill, But Annie Maroon, alas! Answer ne'er will; Singing down-adown-derry.