Classic Poem

I

I MET a child upon the moor
— A-wading down the heather;
She put her hand into my own,
— We crossed the fields together.

I led her to her father's door —
— A cottage midst the clover.
I left her — and the world grew poor
— To me, a childless rover.

II

I met a maid upon the moor,
— The morrow was her wedding.
Love lit her eyes with lovelier hues
— Than the eve-star was shedding.

She looked a sweet good-bye to me,
— And o'er the stile went singing.
Down all the lonely night I heard
— But bridal bells a-ringing.

III

I met a mother on the moor,
— By a new grave a-praying.
The happy swallows in the blue
— Upon the winds were playing.

" Would I were in his grave, " I said,
— " And he beside her standing! "
There was no heart to break if death
— For me had made demanding.