*!
 
 m m 
 
 H 
 

 
 * 
 
 THE SHEPHERD LADY.
 
 Tlie Poems in this volume are not included in any 
 collection of Miss Ingelow s poetry. 

 
 T 
 
 * 
 
 THE 
 
 SHEPHERD LADY, 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY JEAN INGELOW, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SONGS OF SEVEN." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 1876.

 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE SHEPHERD LADY 9 
 
 ABOVE THE CLOUDS 16 
 
 LOVE'S THREAD OF GOLD 18 
 
 FAILURE 20 
 
 ONE MORNING, OH ! so EARLY 24 
 
 THE DAYS WITHOUT ALLOY 26 
 
 THE LEAVES OF LIGN ALOES 29 
 
 ON THE ROCKS BY ABERDEEN 30 
 
 FEATHERS AND Moss 32 
 
 SWEET is CHILDHOOD 33 
 
 THE GYPSY'S SELLING SONG 34 
 
 MY FAIR LADY 36 
 
 SLEEP AND TIME 37 
 
 MASTER, QUOTH THE AULD HOUND 38 
 
 LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT 40 
 
 AT ONE AGAIN 42 
 
 I. Noonday 42 
 
 II. Sunset 45 
 
 III. The Dream 48 
 
 IV. The Waking 50 
 
 V. A Song 52 
 
 VI. Lovers 55 
 
 VII. Fathers 58
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 THE ENGRAVINGS BY LINTON, ANTHONY, DALZIEL BROTHERS, AND JOHN ANDREW 
 AND SON (UNDER WHOSE SUPERVISION THEY ARE PRINTED). 
 
 THE SHEPHERD LADY. DESIGNED BY ARTHUR HUGHES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " The dear white lady in yon high tower." II 
 
 " Take now this crook, my chosen, my fere." 13 
 
 ' ' On sunny slopes, ah ! long the lady 
 
 Feedeth her flock at noon." 15 
 
 ABOVE THE CLOUDS. DESIGNED BY ARTHUR HUGHES. 
 
 "Andean this be my own world?" 17 
 
 FAILURE. DESIGNED BY MARY A. HALLOCK. 
 
 Landscape; Shipwreck 21 
 
 ORPHEUS. ' His deed, sweetest in story." 23 
 
 THE DAYS WITHOUT ALLOY. DESIGNED BY G. PERKINS. 
 
 " And a ship comes up the river 
 With a jolly gang of towers." -27 
 
 ON THE ROCKS BY ABERDEEN. DESIGNED BY MARY A. 
 HALLOCK. 
 
 " Then I busked mysel" 1 u/i 1 speed, 
 And the neighbors cried" What need?" 31
 
 List of Illustrations. 
 
 SWEET IS CHILDHOOD. DESIGNED BY J. A. MITCHELL. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Sweet is childhood." 33 
 
 " Kiss and part." 33 
 
 THE GYPSY'S SELLING SONG. DESIGNED BY W. L. SHEI-PAKD. 
 
 ".'#/ them, buy tliem, take and try iJiein. 
 
 Buy, maids, buy.' 1 ' 1 3- 
 
 MASTER, QUOTH THE OLD HOUND. DESIGNED BY F. O. C. 
 DARLEY. 
 
 " Court her, master, court her, 
 So shall ye do wecl." ................ 
 
 AT ONE AGAIN. DESIGNED BY SOL EYTINGE. 
 
 "His strawberry cow slipped loose her tether." ....... 43 
 
 " And his tired senses float him over the magic stream" .... 47 
 
 " But one in the garden of hops is singing" ......... 51 
 
 " The lady sang in her charmed bower." 1 .......... 53 
 
 " She turns her fare when his own he bendeth.^ ....... 57 
 
 " Wander down to the golden West." ........... 59
 
 *- 
 
 THE SHEPHERD LADY. 
 
 I. 
 
 WHO pipes upon the long green hill, 
 Where meadow grass is deep ? 
 The white lamb bleats but followeth on 
 
 Follow the clean white sheep. 
 The dear white lady in yon high tower, 
 She hearkeneth in her sleep. 
 
 All in long grass the piper stands, 
 
 Goodly and grave is he ; 
 Outside the tower, at dawn of day, 
 
 The notes of his pipe ring free. 
 A thought from his heart doth reach to hers 
 
 " Come down, O lady ! to me." 
 9
 
 Tkc Shepherd Lady. 
 
 She lifts her head, she dons her gown : 
 
 Ah ! the lady is fair ; 
 She ties the girdle on her waist, 
 
 And binds her flaxen hair, 
 And down she stealeth, down and down, 
 
 Down the turret stair. 
 
 Behold him ! With the flock he wons 
 
 Along yon grassy lea. 
 " My shepherd lord, my shepherd love, 
 
 What wilt thou, then, with me? 
 My heart is gone out of my breast, 
 
 And followeth on to thee."
 
 The dear white lady in yon high tower, 
 She hcarkeneth in her sleep i ."
 
 * 
 
 The Shepherd Lady. 
 
 II. 
 
 " The white lambs feed in tender grass : 
 
 With them and thee to bide, 
 How good it were," she saith at noon ; 
 
 " Albeit the meads are wide. 
 Oh ! well is me," she saith when day 
 
 Draws on to eventide. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! the shepherd's voice. Oh, sweet ! 
 
 Her tears drop down like rain. 
 " Take now this crook, my chosen, my fere, 
 
 And tend the flock full fain ; 
 Feed them, O lady, and lose not one, 
 
 Till I shall come again." 
 
 Right soft her speech : " My will is thine, 
 
 And my reward thy grace ! " 
 Gone are his footsteps over the hill, 
 
 Withdrawn his goodly face ; 
 The mournful dusk begins to gather, 
 
 The daylight wanes apace. 
 
 12
 
 Take nmv this crook.''
 
 f 
 
 The Shepherd Lady. 
 
 in. 
 
 On sunny slopes, ah ! long the lady 
 Feedeth her flock at noon ; 
 
 She leads it down to drink at eve 
 Where the small rivulets croon. 
 
 All night her locks are wet with dew, 
 Her eyes outwatch the moon. 
 
 Beyond the hills her voice is heard, 
 She sings when light doth wane : 
 
 " My longing heart is full of love, 
 Nor shall my watch be vain. 
 
 My shepherd lord, I see him not, 
 But he will come again," 
 
 * 

 
 " On sunny slopes, ah ! long the lady 
 Feedeth her flock at noon."
 
 * * 
 
 ABOVE THE CLOUDS. 
 
 A ND can this be my own world ? 
 * *- 'Tis all gold and snow, 
 Save where scarlet waves are hurled 
 
 Down yon gulf below ? 
 'Tis thy world, 'tis my world, 
 
 City, mead, and shore, 
 For he that hath his own world 
 
 Hath many worlds more. 
 
 16 
 
 * *
 
 *
 
 LOVE'S THREAD OF GOLD. 
 
 IN the night she told a story, 
 In the night and all night through, 
 While the moon was in her glory, 
 
 And the branches dropped with dew. 
 'Twas my life she told, and round it 
 
 Rose the years as from a deep ; 
 In the world's great heart she found it, 
 
 Cradled like a child asleep. 
 In the night I saw her weaving 
 
 By the misty moonbeam cold, 
 All the weft her shuttle cleaving 
 
 With a sacred thread of gold. 
 Ah ! she wept me tears of sorrow, 
 
 Lulling tears so mystic sweet ; 
 Then she wove my last to-morrow, 
 
 And her web lay at my feet. 
 18 
 
 *
 
 Loves Thread of Gold. 
 
 Of my life she made the story : 
 I must weep so soon 'twas told! 
 
 But your name did lend it glory, 
 And your love its thread of gold ! 
 
 *
 
 * 
 
 FAILURE. 
 
 WE are much bound to them that do succeed ; 
 But, in a more pathetic sense, are bound 
 To such as fail. They all our loss expound ; 
 They comfort us for work that will not speed, 
 And life itself a failure. 
 
 20 
 
 * 15 I
 
 T
 
 Failure. 
 
 Ay, his deed, 
 
 Sweetest in story, who the dusk profound 
 Of Hades flooded with entrancing sound, 
 Music's own tears, was failure. Doth it read 
 Therefore the worse ? Ah, no ! so much to dare, 
 
 He fronts the regnant Darkness on its throne. 
 So much to do ; impetuous even there, 
 
 He pours out love's disconsolate sweet moan 
 He wins ; but few for that his deed recall : 
 Its power is in the look which costs him all.
 
 t 
 
 I <
 
 ONE MORNING, OH ! SO EARLY. 
 
 ONE morning, oh ! so early, my beloved, my beloved, 
 All the birds were singing blithely, as if never they 
 
 would cease ; 
 
 'Twas a thrush sang in my garden, " Hear the story, hear the 
 story ! " 
 
 And the lark sang, " Give us glory ! " 
 And the dove said, " Give us peace ! " 
 
 Then I listened, oh ! so early, my beloved, my beloved, 
 
 To that murmur from the woodland of the dove, my dear, the 
 
 dove ; 
 
 When the nightingale came after, " Give us fame to sweeten 
 duty ! " 
 
 When the wren sang, " Give us beauty ! " 
 She made answer, " Give us love ! " 
 
 24
 
 f 
 
 * 
 
 One Morning, Ok ! So Early. 
 
 Sweet is spring, and sweet the morning, my beloved, my 
 
 beloved ; 
 Now for us doth spring, doth morning, wait upon the year's 
 
 increase, 
 
 And my prayer goes up, " Oh, give us, crowned in youth with 
 marriage glory, 
 
 Give for all our life's dear story, 
 Give us love, and give us peace ! " 
 
 2 5
 
 W 
 
 THE DAYS WITHOUT ALLOY. 
 
 HEN I sit on market-days amid the comers and the 
 
 goers, 
 
 Oh ! full oft I have a vision of the days without alloy, 
 And a ship comes up the river with a jolly gang of towers, 
 And a " pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy ! heave, hoy ! " 
 
 There is busy talk around me, all about mine ears it hummeth, 
 But the wooden wharves I look on, and a dancing, heaving 
 
 buoy, 
 For 'tis tidetime in the river, and she cometh oh, she 
 
 cometh ! 
 With a " pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy ! heave, hoy ! " 
 
 Then I hear the water washing, never golden waves were 
 
 brighter, 
 
 And I hear the capstan creaking 'tis a sound that cannot 
 cloy. 
 
 26
 
 " And a ship comes up the river with a jolly gang of towers.' 1 ' 1
 
 Tlie Days Without Alloy. 
 
 Bring her to, to ship her lading, brig or schooner, sloop or 
 
 lighter, 
 With a " pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy ! heave, hoy ! " 
 
 " Will ye step aboard, my dearest ? for the high seas lie be- 
 fore us." 
 
 So I sailed with him the river in those days without alloy; 
 Sailed afar, but when, I wonder, shall a sweeter sound float 
 
 o'er us 
 Than yon " pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy ! heave, hoy ! "
 
 THE LEAVES OF LIGN ALOES. 
 
 DROP, drop from the leaves of lign aloes, 
 O honey-dew ! drop from the tree. 
 Float up through your clear river shallows, 
 White lilies, beloved of the bee. 
 
 Let the people, O Queen ! say, and bless thee, 
 Her bounty drops soft as the dew, 
 
 And spotless in honor confess thee, 
 As lilies are spotless in hue. 
 
 On the roof stands yon white stork awaking, 
 His feathers flush rosy the while, 
 
 For, lo ! from the blushing east breaking, 
 The sun sheds the bloom of his smile. 
 
 Let them boast of thy word, " It is certain ; 
 
 We doubt it no more," let them say, 
 " Than to-morrow that night's dusky curtain 
 
 Shall roll back its folds for the day." 
 29
 
 ON THE ROCKS BY ABERDEEN. 
 
 ON the rocks by Aberdeen, 
 Where the whislin' wave had been, 
 As I wandered and at e'en 
 
 Was eerie ; 
 
 There I saw thee sailing west, 
 And I ran with joy opprest- 
 Ay, and took out all my best, 
 My dearie. 
 
 Then I busked mysel' wi' speed, 
 
 And the neighbors cried " What need ? 
 
 'Tis a lass in any weed 
 
 Aye bonny ! " 
 
 Now my heart, my heart is sair: 
 What's the good, though I be fair, 
 For thou'lt never see me mair, 
 
 Man Johnnie !
 
 " Then I busked myser wi' speed, 
 And the neighbors cried " What need?' 1
 
 FEATHERS AND MOSS. 
 
 THE marten flew to the finch's nest, 
 Feathers and moss, and a wisp of hay : 
 " The arrow it sped to thy brown mate's breast ; 
 Low in the broom is thy mate to-day." 
 
 " Liest thou low, love ? low in the broom ? 
 
 Feathers and moss, and a wisp of hay, 
 Warm the white eggs till I learn his doom." 
 
 She beateth her wings, and away, away. 
 
 " Ah, my sweet singer, thy days are told 
 (Feathers and moss, and a wisp of hay) ! 
 
 Thine eyes are dim, and the eggs grow cold. 
 O mournful morrow ! O dark to-day ! " 
 
 The finch flew back to her cold, cold nest, 
 Feathers and moss, and a wisp of hay, 
 
 Mine is the trouble that rent her breast, 
 And home is silent, and love is clay. 
 32
 
 r 
 
 SWEET is childhood childhood's over, 
 Kiss and part. 
 Sweet is youth ; but youth's a rover 
 
 So's my heart. 
 Sweet is rest ; but by all showing 
 
 Toil is nigh. 
 
 We must go. Alas ! the going, 
 Say "good-bye." 
 
 t 
 
 *
 
 THE GYPSY'S SELLING SONG. 
 
 "TV /T Y good man he's an old, old man, 
 <!-*-* And my good man got a fall, 
 To buy me a bargain so fast he ran 
 When he heard the gypsies call : 
 " Buy, buy brushes, 
 Baskets wrought o' rushes. 
 Buy them, buy them, take them, try them, 
 Buy, dames all." 
 
 My old man, he has money and land, 
 
 And a young, young wife am I. 
 Let him put the penny in my white hand 
 When he hears the gypsies cry : 
 " Buy, buy laces, 
 Veils to screen your faces. 
 Buy them, buy them, take and try them. 
 Buy, maids, buy." 
 
 34
 
 ' //fow, buy them, take and try them. 
 Buy, maids, buy"
 
 *- 
 
 MY FAIR LADY. 
 
 MY fair lady's a dear, dear lady 
 I walked by her side to woo. 
 In a garden alley, so sweet and shady, 
 She answered, " I love not you, 
 John, John Brady," 
 Quoth my dear lady, 
 " Pray now, pray now, go your way now, 
 Do, John, do ! " 
 
 Yet my fair lady's my own, own lady, 
 
 For I passed another day ; 
 While making her moan, she sat all alone, 
 And thus and thus did she say : 
 "John, John Brady," 
 Quoth my dear lady, 
 " Do now, do now, once more woo now, 
 Pray, John, pray ! "
 
 SLEEP AND TIME. 
 
 " T T 7AKE, baillie, wake ! the crafts are out ; 
 
 Wake ! " said the knight, " be quick ! 
 For high street, bye street, over the town 
 
 They fight with poker and stick." 
 Said the squire, " A fight so fell was ne'er 
 
 In all thy bailliewick." 
 What said the old clock in the tower ? 
 "Tick, tick, tick!" 
 
 " Wake, daughter, wake ! the hour draws on ; 
 
 Wake!" quoth the dame, "be quick! 
 The meats are set, the guests are coming, 
 
 The fiddler waxing his stick." 
 She said, "The bridegroom waiting and waiting 
 
 To see thy face is sick." 
 What said the new clock in her bower ? 
 "Tick, tick, tick ! " 
 
 37
 
 MASTER, QUOTH THE AULD HOUND. 
 
 MASTER," quoth the auld hound, 
 " Where will ye go ? " 
 " Over moss, over muir, 
 To court my new jo." 
 " Master, though the night be merk, 
 I'se follow through the snow. 
 
 " Court her, master, court her, 
 
 So shall ye do weel ; 
 But and ben she'll guide the house, 
 
 I'se get milk and meal. 
 Ye'se get lilting while she sits 
 
 With her rock and reel." 
 
 " For, oh ! she has a sweet tongue, 
 
 And ecn that look down, 
 A gold girdle for her waist, 
 
 And a purple gown. 
 She has a good word forbye 
 
 Fra a' folk in the town." 
 33
 
 Court her, master, court her, 
 So shall ye do weel."
 
 LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT. 
 
 T T'S we two, it's we two, it's we two for aye, 
 
 *- All the world and we two, and Heaven be our stay. 
 
 Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride ! 
 
 All the world was Adam once, with Eve by his side. 
 
 What's the world, my lass, my love ! what can it do ? 
 I am thine, and thou art mine ; life is sweet and new. 
 If the world have missed the mark, let it stand by, 
 For we two have gotten leave, and once more we'll try. 
 
 Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride ! 
 It's we two, it's we two, happy side by side. 
 Take a kiss from me thy man ; now the song begins : 
 " All is made afresh for us, and the brave heart wins." 
 
 When the darker days come, and no sun will shine, 
 Thou shalt dry my tears, lass, and I'll dry thine. 
 It's we two, it's we two, while the world's away, 
 Sitting by the golden sheaves on our wedding-day. 
 
 40
 
 T 
 
 AT ONE AGAIN. 
 
 * 
 
 4
 
 AT ONE AGAIN. 
 
 I. NOONDAY. 
 
 TWO angry men in heat they sever, 
 And one goes home by a harvest field : 
 " Hope's nought," quoth he, " and vain endeavour ; 
 " I said and say it, I will not yield ! 
 
 " As for this wrong, no art can mend it, 
 The bond is shiver'd that held us twain ; 
 
 Old friends we be, but law must end it, 
 Whether for loss or whether for gain. 
 
 42 
 
 g
 
 ' His strawberry cow slipped loose her tether, 
 And trod the best of my barley down.''''
 
 At One Again. 
 
 "Yon stream is small full slow its wending; 
 
 But winning is sweet, but right is fine ; 
 And shoal of trout, or willowy bending - 
 
 Though Law be costly I'll prove them mine. 
 
 " His strawberry cow slipped loose her tether, 
 And trod the best of my barley down ; 
 
 His little lasses at play together 
 
 Pluck'd the poppies my boys had grown. 
 
 " What then ? Why nought ! She lackM of reason ; 
 
 And they my little ones match them well: 
 But this Nay all things have their season, 
 
 And 'tis my season to curb and quell." 
 
 44
 
 II. SUNSET. 
 
 SO saith he, when noontide fervours flout him, 
 So thinks, when the West is amber and red, 
 When he smells the hop-vines sweet about him, 
 And the clouds are rosy overhead. 
 
 While slender and tall the hop-poles going 
 Straight to the West in their leafy lines, 
 
 Portion it out into chambers, glowing, 
 And bask in red day as the sun declines. 
 
 Between the leaves in his latticed arbour 
 He sees the sky, as they flutter and turn, 
 
 While moor'd like boats in a golden harbour" 
 The fleets of feathery cloudlets burn. 
 45
 
 * 
 
 At One Again. 
 
 Withdrawn in shadow, he thinketh over 
 
 Harsh thoughts, the fruit-laden trees among, 
 
 Till pheasants call their young to cover, 
 And cushats coo them a nursery song. 
 
 And flocks of ducks forsake their sedges, 
 Wending home to the wide barn-door, 
 
 And loaded wains between the hedges 
 Slowly creep to his threshing floor 
 
 Slowly creep. And his tired senses, 
 Float him over the magic stream, 
 
 To a world where Fancy recompenses 
 
 Vengeful thoughts, with a troubled dream !
 
 " And his tired senses, 
 Float him over the magic stream.
 
 T 
 
 III. THE DREAM. 
 
 WHAT'S this? a wood What's that? one calleth, 
 Calleth and cryeth in mortal dread 
 He hears men strive then somewhat falleth ! 
 "Help me, neighbour I'm hard bestead." 
 
 The dream is strong the voice he knoweth 
 But when he would run, his feet are fast, 
 
 And death lies beyond, and no man goeth 
 To help, and he says the time is past. 
 
 His feet are held, and he shakes all over, - 
 
 Nay they are free he has found the place 
 
 Green boughs are gather'd what is't they cover? 
 " I pray you, look on the dead man's face ; 
 48
 
 At One Again. 
 
 You that stand by," he saith, and cowers 
 " Man, or Angel, to guard the dead 
 
 With shadowy spear, and a brow that lowers, 
 And wing-points reared in the gloom o'erhead. 
 
 I dare not look. He wronged me never. 
 
 Men say we differ' d ; they speak amiss : 
 This man and I were neighbours ever 
 
 I would have ventured my life for his. 
 
 But fast my feet were fast with tangles 
 Aye ! words but they were not sharp, I trow, 
 
 Though parish feuds and vestry wrangles 
 O pitiful sight I see thee now ! 
 
 If we fell out, 'twas but foul weather, 
 After long shining ! O bitter cup, 
 
 What dead? why, man, we play'd together 
 Art dead ere a friend can make it up?" 
 
 49
 
 IV. THE WAKING. 
 
 OVER his head the chafer hummeth, 
 Under his feet shut daisies bend : 
 Waken, man ! the enemy cometh, 
 
 Thy neighbour, counted so long a friend. 
 
 He cannot waken and firm, and steady, 
 The enemy comes with lowering brow ; 
 
 He looks for war, his heart is ready, 
 His thoughts are bitter he will not bow. 
 
 He fronts the seat, the dream is flinging 
 A spell that his footsteps may not break, - 
 
 But one in the garden of hops is singing 
 The dreamer hears it, and starts awake. 
 5
 
 " But one in the garden of hops is singing 
 The dreamer hears it, and starts awake."
 
 ft nil 
 
 V. A SONG. 
 
 'I \ TALKING apart, she thinks none listen ; 
 
 And now she carols, and now she stops ; 
 And the evening star begins to glisten 
 Atween the lines of blossoming hops. 
 
 Sweetest Mercy, your mother taught you 
 All uses and cares that to maids belong ; 
 
 Apt scholar to read and to sew she thought you 
 She did not teach you that tender song 
 
 " The lady sang in her charmed bower, 
 Sheltered and safe under roses blown 
 
 ' Storm cannot touch me, hail, nor shower, 
 Where all alone I sit, all alone. 
 
 52
 
 The lady sang in her charmed bower, 
 Sheltered and safe under roses blown."
 
 At One Again. 
 
 My bower ! The fair Fay twined it round me ; 
 
 Care nor trouble can pierce it tlirough ; 
 But once a sigh from the warm world found me 
 
 Between two leaves that were bent with dew. 
 
 And day to night, and night to morrow, 
 
 Though soft as slumber tJic long hours wore 
 
 I looked for my dower of love, of sorrow 
 Is there no more no more no more ? ' 
 
 Give her the sun-sweet light, and duly 
 To walk in shadow, nor chide her part ; 
 
 Give her the rose, and truly, truly 
 To wear its thorn with a patient heart. 
 
 Misty as dreams the moonbeam lyeth 
 
 Chequered and faint on her charmed floor ; 
 
 The lady singeth, the lady sigheth 
 
 ' Is there no more no more no more ! ' ' 
 
 54
 
 VI. LOVERS. 
 
 A CRASH of boughs ! one through them breaking ! 
 Mercy is startled, and fain would fly, 
 But e'en as she turns, her steps o'ertaking, 
 He pleads with her "Mercy, it is but I!" 
 
 "Mercy!" he touches her hand unbidden 
 
 " The air is balmy, I pray you stay 
 Mercy ? " Her downcast eyes are hidden, 
 
 And never a word she has to say. 
 
 Till closer drawn, her prison'd fingers 
 
 He takes to his lips with a yearning strong ; 
 And she murmurs low, that late she lingers, 
 
 Her mother will want her, and think her long. 
 
 55
 
 At One Again. 
 
 " Good mother is she, then honour duly 
 The lightest wish in her heart that stirs ; 
 
 But there is a bond yet dearer truly, 
 And there is a love that passeth hers. 
 
 Mercy, Mercy ! " Her heart attendeth 
 
 Love's birthday blush on her brow lies sweet ; 
 
 She turns her face when his own he bendeth, 
 And the lips of the youth and the maiden meet.
 
 "She turns her face ivhen his own he bendeth, 
 
 And the lips of the youth and the maiden meet,"
 
 T 
 
 X 
 
 VII. FATHERS. 
 
 1\ /T OVE through the bowering hops, O lovers, 
 ^'A Wander down to the golden West, 
 But two stand mute in the shade that covers 
 Your love and youth from their souls opprest. 
 
 A little shame on their spirits stealing, 
 A little pride that is loth to sue, 
 
 A little struggle with soften'd feeling, 
 And a world of fatherly care for you. 
 
 One says: "To this same running water, 
 May be, Neighbour, your claim is best." 
 
 And one " Your son has kissed my daughter : 
 Let the matters between us rest." 
 58
 
 " Move through the lowering hops, O loners, 
 Wander down to the golden West." 
 
 t
 
 22375
 
 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 University of California, San Diego 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 JUN14 1974 
 
 C/39 
 
 f/CSD Libr. 
 
 A 000 963 834 7