The Hole Goes Too Deep (1889)

When on his visits to the North York Moors, Sir Stanley Coulton gathered various pieces of folklore. He was particularly struck by the legend of "The Watcher in the Village" and several differing stories that concerned creatures that lived at the bottom of holes or wells.

The hole goes too deep

It looks up so dark and black

A stone drops down

There is no splash

No sound echoing back

The base lies so far

So distant flies that stone

It falls and spins

There is no thud

To tell it has hit home

And yet if I look

If I squint my eyes and stare

Into the pitch

White blinking eyes

Call to me from there

Are You Of The Seelie Court? (1891)

Written in 1891 this poem gives a snapshot into the movements of Sir Stanley in this period. It has been widely recorded that he spent six months in Edinburgh and the surrounding towns and villages in this year. This exploration followed a disturbing experience that caused him to take a break from his work gathering lore in and around the North York Moors.

Whilst wandering the wilds of Scotland he began to investigate stories of the Fey and the Seelie and Unseelie courts. This poem, he reported, "encapsulated the myth and mystery of these ancient beliefs." He insisted that this poem was a translation from an original Gaelic rhyme but no version of the original exists on paper or in the oral tradition.

In his notes at the bottom of the page where this was recorded he did draw a dark figure and a black horse by what appears to be a loch. In the image an arrow points from the mouth of the horse to the poem above. Underneath the horse he has written the word "Kelpie".

Are you of the Seelie Court?

Do you give man no second thought

Except what kindness you can bring

And how to ease his suffering?

Are you of Unseelie Court?

Do you give man no second thought

Except what troubles you can bring

And to increase his suffering?

The Seelie Court, The Seelie Court

Blessings full of hopeful thought

Unseelie Court, Unseelie Court

Hope and prayer are all for naught

Can you tell me maiden fair? (1892)

Perhaps one of Sir Stanley Coulton's most famous poems (soon to be published in "Tales from the Black Meadow" - (Exiled Publications)) this echoes his concerns about love and loss. After his beloved wife Dorothea died in childbirth Sir Stanley became very reclusive and spent much of his time on the North York Moors. This poem was based on a rhyme that he heard at the Plough Inn in Sleights.

Can you tell me, maiden fair

Can you tell me if or where

I shall see my child again

Walk upon the fields of men?

Will she ever stumble back

From the meadow all a’black? 

The Glass You Held Is Full (1882)

In this poem Sir Stanley Coulton reveals his state of mind in the aftermath of a fiery argument with his beloved Dorothea. She leaves so fast that her breath hangs in the air, the creak of the shutting door can still be heard as can be her retreating footsteps. Most tellingly we see the influence of his time on the North York Moors in the final stanza. There is a supernatural edge to this with her spirit still in the room with him even though she has gone. Some say that this poem forshadowed her tragic demise, indeed it had such a horrid resonance that he refused to perform it after her death.

The glass you held is full

Because you left so swift.

Your breath hangs in the air, 

My own breath makes it drift.

The door is swinging shut,

The creak still sounding out.

Your footsteps echo loud,

Your presence is in doubt.

I know you ran so fast,

Far across the meadow.

For even though you're gone,

There remains your shadow.

The Pickering Sole (1895)

This fabulous little ditty was written whilst Sir Stanley Coulton was on one of his many visits to the North York Moors. He often stayed there for weeks and would complain, on his return to his gentleman's club in London, about the damage he had done to his feet. This particular poem refers to a pair of shoes that he bought from a cobbler in Pickering. They lasted him a good five years of wandering but eventually gave up the ghost.

Oh, the Pickering sole is worn and thin

And all the buckles bent

The once fine leather is now tattered skin,

This peasant was a gent.

He walked too far, he trod too long

He promised to come home.

But the Pickering sole has sung its song

No longer can he roam.

The Pickering stocking smiles through the hole

That once had been the Pickering sole.

The Pickering foot rests on the stool

And waits for Pickering toes to cool.

Tarry Now a While My Dear (1871)

It is well known that Sir Stanley was a man of very deep feelings. He suffered from great melancholy and this was at its worst when travelling a long way from his childhood sweetheart Dorothea Walcott. They were engaged to be married in the winter of 1870. When his father sent him on an expedition to Alaska (his father was a very successful businessman who had various projects in Europe and North America) he had to bid a very tearful farewell to Dorothea. It is said that he wrote this poem on his fiancee's handkerchief before drying it in the November breeze. 

Tarry now a while my dear,

Tarry now a while.

Tarry long for all the year,

Tarry now a while.

Tarry while the grass is wet.

Tarry now it is dry.

Tarry as I laugh with thee,

Tarry whilst I cry.

Tarry here, then tarry there,

Tarry in my arms.

Tarry now without a care,

Tarry to my charms.

Tarry now a while my dear,

Tarry high and low.

Tarry with me ev'ry year.

Tarry. Do not go.