bindweed flowers Ample and moon-white nobly shone, And over green abysses slung, Mid honey-haunted sound of bees, Swayed lightly to the scented breeze.

p. 181

p. 182In passing starwort’s silvery gems, By maple’s warm fawn-tinted stems, Caprices that gnarled the oak and thorn, A sudden scream of rageful scorn Startles us from the hedgerow nigh; Whence two disturbed fierce blackbirds fly Uttering threats of vengeance dire! While we, who lit this angry fire, Are wondering such discordant throats Can tune those soft melodious notes The fondest lover’s listening ear, At even, turns entranced to hear!

p. 182

But if I sang of every sight That afternoon which gave delight, Those treasures would my numbers throng Beyond the compass of my song; Therefore, Nelly, to be precise, We bought the milk, and paid the price Charged in that rural paradise. The rolls of butter, the jars of cream, p. 183Churn, and cleanly pans, now seem, Thro’ fifty years of vanished time, The memories of a nursery rhyme; Or story, like The “Babes in the Wood,” Written for children to make them good.

p. 183

Homeward we went in soberer mood; Haply the weight we had to carry, By stile and gate oft made us tarry To change our hands, and ease the weight By making both co-operate. At length we knew the hour grew late, Because we saw our shadows rise, Mocking our motions, thrice our size; And keeping faithful phantom pace, Tempting us to an elfin race For fairy treasure; all in play! For which, whatever they might say, We knew our lives would have to pay! Both breaking into prattle showed How pleased we trod the dusty road p. 184Once more; and rested where the rill Sings issuing, halfway up the hill; Where maids and wives their pitchers bring To fill, and gossip at the spring. To gossip ourselves we durst not stop, As we had yet to reach the top Where, starting from before the moon, Our church spire quickened, rose, and danced Higher and higher as we advanced, And on a sudden ceased, as soon As we were on the level; then, There your mother stood at the gate Impatient we were out so late; Inquiring how, and why, and when; She thought we had been drowned, and lost, And by some savage mad bull tossed; So long had she been looking out! Whatever had we been about? Altho’ we saw so much that day, But little then had we to say, And told her a bewildered tale p. 185Of garment torn by splintered rail; Of spiders, blackbirds, butterflies; Of rooks so near that looked so wise! Of ghostly shadows, some of the way, That had been tempting us to play, Tho’ sure they 

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