Classic Poem

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 grass
Where the kestrels hover--
What leagues of sorrow they must pass
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.

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.


iii

A town-bred girl, her hair in curl
And apron 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?


iv

'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.


v

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.


vi

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.


vii

"'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;
God 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, lass, I'll not be false
While I do live,
For we two go where Nature calls,
As I believe."


viii

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.