The Village Wife's Lament Part 3

But poor people have need to work Whether merry or sad, Whatever groping thought do lurk, Whatever dreams they've had!

I went my way and he kept his, I to the county town, He in a row of cottages Below the hump-backt down.

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A town-bred girl, her hair in curl And ap.r.o.n edged with lace, She took me in, my head awhirl, To my new place.

And there the five of us must hive In that warm shutter'd house, And keep our honesty alive With none to counsel us.

The master and the mistresses, What were they but strangers?

'Twas no part of their businesses To think of servants' dangers.

They sneer at us, and we at them, Life sunders where the stairs are: But are the things that they condemn In us much worse than theirs are?

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'Twas busy now I had to be, And keep myself neat, Dress in my new black gown by tea, And streamer'd cap to it.

The brisk young men were plenty enough, And talk about them plenty Among us maids! No other stuff Contents the tongue at twenty.

But Mother's words came back to me, Told when I was little: Mind you, the tongue's your only key, And what it guards is brittle.

Love is the best; let go the rest, But hold him by the wing Until he's plumaged for the test-- Then let him soar and sing.

I took no harm of all their talk-- All talkt the same-- Tho' more than one askt me to walk When my Sunday came; But I held fast the dream I'd had In the old farm, And saw myself beside my lad, My hand on his arm.

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A year went on, and twenty-one Saw me discarded.

They laught at me for constancy Ne'er to be rewarded.

Then came a warm, still day of May And brought me a letter.

I blusht so red, the cook she said, Lucky man to get her!

At half-past three he came for me; I dared not speak; But there was all he need to see Flaming in my cheek.

What better has the best of us If kind Heaven grant her A glowing hearth, a little house, And a good man to want her?

In the soft shrouding clinging mist His strong arms held me.

Our lips kept tryst, and long we kiss'd; His great love fill'd me.

Sweet is the warmth of summer weather, But the best fire I know Is of two pair of lips together, Two hearts in one glow.

His love he told, that made me bold To look at him fairly, And see the burning blush take hold And colour him up rarely.

Within his ply though caught was I, I backt a saucy head: "Oh, I was shy a year gone by-- Your turn now," I said.

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Now would you prove the man I love As I saw him then?

He was of them who're slow to move, One of your still men; One of your men self-communing Who see sheep on a hill, Ships out at sea or birds a-wing Where you see _nil_.

And what they see they seldom say, Holding speech to be vain; And yet so kin to earth are they They smell the coming rain.

The earth can teach them without speech, They know as they are known-- Why should they preach to the out-of-reach, Or counsel Nature's own?

He never was a man to talk, He was too wise; But things he'd see out on his walk Would blind another's eyes.

But when it came to speak about them 'Twas another thing.

He'd say, "What use is it to shout them?

I want to sing!"

A smallish head, with jet-black hair And eyes grey-blue, You felt when'er he lookt you fair That he must be true; And when he smil'd his dear and shy way Sidelong his mouth, I always thought the sun fell my way And the wind South.

So I possest the knowledge blest That Love had held him fast Since the day our eyes confest, The first time and the last.

"Since then," he said, "I never durst Look at you at all, For fear you'd see the hunger and thirst That kept me like a thrall.

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"'Twas when you went away and left Me and pain alone, By fortune's theft I stood bereft Of all I'd counted on-- And this also, I ne'er could go On my shepherd life, Without I had the grace to woo You my loving wife.

"There was a fate, I do believe, Call'd us together; G.o.d visit me when'er you grieve Taking on my tether!

But if we share with every creature That is quick and dead The call of nature unto nature, Then we two should wed.

"You are a beauty bred and born, As any one can see; You walk the world as if in scorn Of riches or degree.

Your eyes call home the soft green tone Of the fainting sky When the eve-star keeps watch alone, And the summer is nigh.

"But 'tis your grave and constant mind Beckon'd me to you, Too good, too sweet, too fond, too kind, For me to be untrue.

So trust me, la.s.s, I'll not be false While I do live, For we two go where Nature calls, As I believe."

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Trust! Oh, I could have sunk to ground And lain under his feet!

To have his praise was like a wound, Throbbing and deadly sweet; A wound that lets the welling blood Ebb from the vein, Merging the hurt in drowsihood, And hushing down the pain.

High destiny of Nature's calling, Foil'd and frustrate!

Just then the evil tide was crawling To drown love in hate.

V

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The meadows wear a cloth of gold, The trees wear green; Upon the down in dimpled fold The white lambs glean; Deep blue the skyey canopy, Soft the wind's fan: Behold the earth as it might be If man lov'd man!

Summer is soon; the next new moon Will see the yellowing wheat; Then will be harvest, Earth's high boon To them that work for it.

The reapers swink, the heat-waves blink Across the drowsy fen-- Now let hearts shrink from scythes that drink The blood of young men!

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