MORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
“Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries-
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries—
All ripe together
In summer weather—
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy;
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
Come buy, come buy.”

Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
“Lie close,” Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?”
“Come buy,” call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
“O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men.”
Lizzie covered up her eyes
Covered close lest they should look;
Laura reared her glossy head,
And whispered like the restless brook:
“Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds’ weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes.”
“No,” said Lizzie, “no, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us.”
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat’s face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat’s pace,
One crawled like a snail,
One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry.
Lizzie heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
“Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather.”
“You have much gold upon your head,”
They answered altogether:
“Buy from us with a golden curl.”
She clipped a precious golden lock,
She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flowed that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore,
She sucked until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away,
But gathered up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turned home alone.

I finished typing and printing tons of chapters yesterday, which I’d been working on for the past 2 days (Monday doesn’t count - things were so hectic, I only got time to do some longhand).

It’s coming together! I think that has to be one of the more exciting things about being a writer - watching all the pieces of your work come together that were previously so far apart.

Also, I have to work on the Fantasy Big Bang for LJ, since I only have about 50 words for that so far (don’t hurt me!). 8K is not a lot, and I have a little more than 3 months to do it, but it’s one of those things that I’d have to make a committment to. Let me now direct your attention to 6 Tricks for Writing When You Don’t Feel Like It!

I love writer blogs.

And now for your near-daily dose of Goblin Market:

Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
“Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Plucked from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the moonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew gray;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so.”
“Nay hush,” said Laura.
“Nay hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more,” and kissed her.
“Have done with sorrow;
I’ll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons, icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink,
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap.”

I heard Eleven on the TV this morning and I’m hoping beyond hope that the show comes back soon (minus Rory, I really think he’s just getting in the way of everything between Amy and Eleven…which is kind of the point).

I should sympathize with him (Rory). He’s such a sweetheart and a good guy and he only wants the best for Amy, but if I like him, I can’t like her with him, because she keeps pulling him around, or she did until they got married.

Rory is good, though. He made it plain to Eleven what was going on when he said “People just want to impress you,” and essentially that was the reason why Amy was running off and heading into probable death. Rory was so afraid for her and Eleven just looked so pitiful after that. Amy is brave in a lot of ways I could never hope to be, but she’s also reckless, simply throwing herself into these situations whenever Eleven says “I need your help,” which he never vocally does. He’s the Doctor, he just goes out and does things.

Still, Amy is no Donna. I love Donna, she’s amazing! And while I love love LOVE Ten, Eleven is compassionate, not manic. Ten was a powerhouse of activity, and he was great for his energy. Eleven is wonderful - he’s such a goof.

Can I just say that I really don’t like Amy’s nails? They are the one thing I don’t like about her. How can she maintain long nails and run around saving the world? It makes her seem too above everything else. Eleven is so in line with all of the places they go; he looks so natural, and she’s this bright orange spot on the screen that is perpetually out of place. Those nails! I can’t get over them.

Okay, homework time.