For a weekly wage she was standing there,  (Three currants in a bun) With a prominent bust and light gold hair.  (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

The express came in at half-past two,  (Three currants in a bun) And there lighted a man in the navy blue.  (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

p. 40A stout sea-captain he was, I ween.  (Three currants in a bun) Much travel had made him very keen.  (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

p. 40

A sober man and steady was he.  (Three currants in a bun) He called not for brandy, but called for tea.  (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

‘Now something to eat, for the train is late.’  (Three currants in a bun) She brought him a bun on a greasy plate.  (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

He left the bun, and he left the tea,  (Three currants in a bun) She charged him a shilling and let him be, And the train went on at a quarter to three.  (And the bun is old and weary.)

p. 41A DECEMBER DAY

p. 41

Blue, blue is the sea to-day, Warmly the light Sleeps on St. Andrews Bay—  Blue, fringed with white.

That’s no December sky! Surely ’tis June Holds now her state on high, Queen of the noon.

Only the tree-tops bare Crowning the hill, Clear-cut in perfect air, Warn us that still

p. 42Winter, the aged chief, Mighty in power, Exiles the tender leaf, Exiles the flower.

p. 42

Is there a heart to-day, A heart that grieves For flowers that fade away, For fallen leaves?

Oh, not in leaves or flowers Endures the charm That clothes those naked towers With love-light warm.

O dear St. Andrews Bay, Winter or Spring Gives not nor takes away Memories that cling

p. 43All round thy girdling reefs, That walk thy shore, Memories of joys and griefs Ours evermore.

p. 43

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