The Village Wife's Lament Part 2

And hear you me, my love, this night Where Grief and I are set?

And look you for the beacon light, And can you see it yet?

Or is the sod too deep, my love, Which they piled over you?

Or are you bound in sleep, my love, Lying in the dew?

ii

When I was done with schooling days, Turn'd sixteen, My mother found me in a place My own bread to win.

I had not been a month in place, A month from the start, When there show'd grace upon my face That smote a man's heart.

Tho' I was young and full of play, As full as a kitten, I knew to reckon to a day When his heart was smitten.

You'll pick my logic all to holes, But here's my wonder: It is that G.o.d should knit two souls, And men tear them asunder.

For we were knit, no doubt of it, I as well as he; I peered in gla.s.s, my eyes were lit After he'd lookt at me.

I knew not why my heart was glad, Or why it leapt, but so 'tis, The sharpest, sweetest pang I've had Was when he took notice.

And 'tis not favour makes a lad To a girl's mind, But 'tis himself makes good of bad, Or her stone-blind.

And men may cheer at tales of wars, But every girl knows What makes her eyes to shine like stars And her face a rose.

iii

No word he said, but turned his head After he'd lookt at me; I coloured up a burning red, Setting the cloth for tea.

The board was spread with cakes and bread For farmer in his sleeves, For mistress and the shepherd Ted; They talkt of hogs and theaves--

But nothing ate I where I sat, So bashful as I was, But kept my eyes upon my plate And pray'd the minutes pa.s.s.

Tic-toc, tic-toc from great old clock, The long hand did creep; And every stroke in my heart woke Nature out of her sleep.

So once, they tell, did Gabriel Name a young Maid For honour and a miracle, And few words she said; But things have changed a wondrous deal Since she was nam'd, If to her room she did not steal As if she were asham'd;

And there upon her bed to sit Astare, as I guess, Watching her fingers weave and knit, Bedded in her dress, A-thinking thoughts in her young mind Too wild for tears to gain, As when the roaring North-West wind Gives no time to the rain.

iv

Give thanks, you maids, that there's your work To keep your heart and head From thoughts that lurk in them who shirk Their daily round to tread.

But she goes bold who feels the hold And colour of her love Laid on her task like water-gold From the lit sky above.

v

I rose with early morning light, The meadows grey with rime, To set the kitchen fire, and dight The room for breakfast-time; Or make the beds, or rinse and scour, And all the while A singing heart, a face aflower, And secret smile.

So 'twas with me week in, week out, And no more to be said; A moment's look, a hint of doubt, A half-turn of the head.

I had my hands as full as full, And full of work was he-- But I learn'd in another school After he'd lookt at me.

vi

In summer time of flowers and bees And flies on the pane, Before the sun could gild the trees Or set afire the vane, Down I must go upon my knees, Or ply the showering mop; Then feed the chicken, ducks and geese, And milk the last drop.

On winter mornings dark and hard, White from aching bed, There were the huddled fowls in yard All to be fed.

My frozen breath stream'd from my lips, The cows were hid in steam; I lost sense of my finger-tips And milkt in a dream.

My drowsy cheek fast to her side, The pail below my arm, My thought leapt what might me betide, And soon I was warm.

For that gave me a beating heart And made me hot thro', As when you reckon, with a start, Someone speaks of you.

vii

And all my years of farm-service There was no dismay, But men and maids knew nought amiss With their work or play; But grew amain like tree or beast, Labouring out their lives Till sap and milk fill'd spine and breast, And ripen'd men and wives.

What call had we to think of war, We growing things?

What need had we to reckon o'er Mis...o...b..s or threatenings?

A soldier-lad in his red coat Show'd up then as he past Like a lamplighted fishing-boat Lonely in the vast.

An aeroplane in middle sky Might bring us to our doors, To see her like a dragon-fly Droning as she soars.

Long before you see her come You can hear her throbbing, Far, far away like a distant drum, Near, like a thresher sobbing.

Ah, in those days of wonderment, Wonder and delight, No thought we spent what murder meant, Horror in the night; Or how a hidden dreadful plan Like a fingering weed Was growing up in the mind of man From a fungus-seed!

IV

i

Out of the clear how shrewdly blows The North-West wind!

Free as he goes, how brave he shows, The sun seems blind!

The shadows fleet upon the gra.s.s Where the kestrels hover-- What leagues of sorrow they must pa.s.s Before they shroud my lover!

Half-naked now, confronting cold, The tall trees shiver, Each with its pool of pallid gold Draining down to the river.

'Tis now when fret of winter wet Warns the year she is old, And she casts robe and coronet, That I would loosen hold.

ii

Our lives creep on to change at last, And change is sudden coming; Rooted you see yourself and fast, And then be sent roaming.

When I was come to twenty years, Home for a spell, Mother she brought a flush of tears With what she had to tell.

There was a fine new place for me Forty miles away-- And where my dream of what might be One fine day?

The farmer's wife she kiss'd me kindly When I was paid; But Ted and I said Goodbye blindly, And no more said.

No word between us of the thought That fill'd four years, No fond look caught by eyes well taught, Tho' thick with tears!

'Twas Goodbye, Nance, and Goodbye, Ted, And just a clasp of the hand: Maybe I'll write, he might have said For me to understand.