My thought leapt what might me betide,

And soon I was warm.

For that gave me a beating heart

And made me hot thro',

As when you reckon, with a start,

Someone speaks of you.

 vii 

vii

And all my years of farm-service

There was no dismay,

But men and maids knew nought amiss

With their work or play;

But grew amain like tree or beast,

Labouring out their lives

Till sap and milk fill'd spine and breast,

And ripen'd men and wives.

[Pg 26]

What call had we to think of war,

We growing things?

What need had we to reckon o'er

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