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••You think, because my life is rude 310 I take no note of sweetness:

I tell you love has naught to do

With meetness or unmeetness.

". Itself its best excuse, it asks

No leave of pride or fashion 315 When silken zone or homespun frock

It stirs with throbs of passion.

".. You think me deaf and blind: you bring

Your winning graces hither

As free as if from cradle-time 320 We two had played together.

“ You tempt me with your laughing eyes,

Your cheek of sundown's blushes,
A motion as of waving grain,

A music as of thrushes.


««• The plaything of your summer sport,

The spells you weave around me
You cannot at your will undo,

Nor leave me as you found me.

"6" You go as lightly as you came, 330

Your life is well without me;
What care you that these hills will close

Like prison-walls about me?

16 No mood is mine

seek a fe, Or daughter for my mother: 335 Who loves you loses in that love

All power to love another!

“I dare your pity or your scorn,

With pride your own exceeding ;

I fling my heart into your lap 340 Without a word of pleading.'

" She looked up in his face of pain

So archly, yet so tender:
• And if I lend you mine,' she said,

“Will you forgive the lender ?

345 "Nor frock nor tan can hide the man;

And see you not, my farmer,
How weak and fond a woman waits

Behind this silken armor ?


"I love you: on that love alone, 350 And not my worth, presuming,

Will you not trust for summer fruit

The tree in May-day blooming ?'

“ Alone the hangbird overhead,

His hair-swung cradle straining, 355 Looked down to see love's miracle,

The giving that is gaining.

" And so the farmer found a wife,

His mother found a daughter:

There looks no happier home than hers 360 On pleasant Bearcamp Water.

“ Flowers spring to blossom where she walks

The careful ways of duty;
Our hard, stiff lines of life with her

Are flowing curves of beauty.


" Our homes are cheerier for her sake,

Our door-yards brighter blooming,
And all about the social air

Is sweeter for her coming.

Unspoken homilies of peace 370

Her daily life is preaching;
The still refreshment of the dew

Is her unconscious teaching.

" And never tenderer band than hers

Unknits the brow of ailing; 375 Her garments to the sick man's ear

Have music in their trailing.

" And wher, in pleasant harvest moons,

“ The youthful huskers gather, Or sleigh-drives on the mountain ways

Defy the winter weather,



In sugar-camps, when south and warm

The winds of March are blowing,
And sweetly from its thawing veins

The maple's blood is flowing,

385 “ In summer, where some lilied pond

Its virgin zone is bearing,
Or where the ruddy autumn fire

Lights up the apple-paring,

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« The coarseness of a ruder time

a 390

Her finer mirth displaces,
A subtler sense of pleasure fills

Each rustic sport she graces.

“ Her presence lends its warmth and health

To all who come before it. 395 If woman lost us Eden, such

As she alone restore it.

“For larger life and wiser aims

The farmer is her debtor;

Who holds to his another's heart 400

Must needs be worse or better.

6. Through her his civic service shows

A purer-toned ambition;
No double consciousness divides

The man and politician.


“ In party's doubtful ways he trusts

Iler instincts to determine;
At the loud polls, the thought of her

Recalls Christ's Mountain Sermon.

“ He owns her logic of the heart, 410

And wisdom of unreason,
Supplying, while he doubts and weighs,

The needed word in season.

“He sees with pride her richer thought,

Her fancy's freer ranges; 415 And love thus deepened to respect

Is proof against all changes.

" And if she walks at ease in ways

His feet are slow to travel,
And if she reads with cultured eyes

What his may scarce unravel,


• Still clearer, for her keener sight

Of beauty and of wonder,
He learns the meaning of the hills

He dwelt from childhood under.


“ And higher, warmed with summer lights,

Or winter-crowned and hoary,
The ridged horizon lifts for him

Its inner veils of glory.

“ He has his own free, bookless lore, 430 The lessons nature taught him,

The wisdom which the woods and hills

And toiling men have brought him:

“ The steady force of will whereby

Her flexile grace seems sweeter; 435 The sturdy counterpoise which makes

Her woman's life completer:

" A latent fire of soul which lacks

No breath of love to fan it;

And wit, that, like his native brooks, 440 Plays over solid granite.

“ How dwarfed against his manliness

She sees the poor pretension,
The wants, the aims, the follies, born

Of fashion and convention!

445 “How life behind its accidents

Stands strong and self-sustaining,
The human fact transcending all

The losing and the gaining.

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