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I stood a minute out of sight,
Stood silent for a minute

To eye the pail, and creamy white
The frothing milk within it;

To eye the comely milking maid
Herself so fresh and creamy :
·Good day to you," at last I said;

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She turned her head to see me :

Good day," she said with lifted head;
Her eyes looked soft and dreamy,

And all the while she milked and milked
The grave cow heavy-laden:

I've seen grand ladies plumed and silked,
But not a sweeter maiden ;

But not a sweeter fresher maid
Than this in homely cotton,
Whose pleasant face and silky braid

I have not yet forgotten.

Seven springs have passed since then, as I Count with a sober sorrow;

Seven springs have come and passed me by, And spring sets in to-morrow.

I've half a mind to shake myself
Free just for once from Londca,
To set my work upon the shelf

And leave it done or undone ;

To run down by the early train,

Whirl down with shriek and whistle, And feel the bluff North blow again,

And mark the sprouting thistle Set up on waste patch of the lane Its green and tender bristle,

And spy the scarce-blown violet banks,
Crisp primrose leaves and others,
And watch the lambs leap at their pranks
And butt their patient mothers.

Alas, one point in all my plan

My serious thoughts demur to:

Seven years have passed for maid and man,

Seven years have passed for her too;

Perhaps my rose is overblown,

Not rosy or too rosy;

Perhaps in farmhouse of her own

Some husband keeps her cosy,

Where I should show a face unknown.

Good-bye, my wayside posy.

A PORTRAIT.

I.

SHE gave up beauty in her tender youth,

Gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways;
She covered up her eyes lest they should gaze
On vanity, and chose the bitter truth.

Harsh towards herself, towards others full of ruth,
Servant of servants, little known to praise,

Long prayers and fasts trenched on her nights and

days:

She schooled herself to sights and sounds uncouth
That with the poor and stricken she might make
A home, until the least of all sufficed

Her wants; her own self learned she to forsake,
Counting all earthly gain but hurt and loss.
So with calm will she chose and bore the cross
And hated all for love of Jesus Christ.

II.

They knelt in silent anguish by her bed,

And could not weep; but calmly there she lay, All pain had left her; and the sun's last ray Shone through upon her, warming into red The shady curtains. In her heart she said: "Heaven opens; I leave these and go away; The Bridegroom calls,-shall the Bride seek to stay?"

Then low upon her breast she bowed her head.

O lily flower, O gem of priceless worth,

O dove with patient voice and patient eyes, O fruitful vine amid a land of dearth,

O maid replete with loving purities,

Thou bowedst down thy head with friends on earth To raise it with the saints in Paradise.

WHY

BY THE SEA.

does the

sea moan evermore?

Shut out from heaven it makes its moan,

It frets against the boundary shore;

All earth's full rivers cannot fill

The sea, that drinking thirsteth still.

Sheer miracles of loveliness

Lie hid in its unlooked-on bed :

Anemones, salt, passionless,

Blow flower-like; just enough alive
To blow and multiply and thrive.

Shells quaint with curve, or spot, or spike,
Encrusted live things argus-eyed,

All fair alike, yet all unlike,

Are born without a pang, and die
Without a pang, and so pass by.

O

GONE FOR EVER.

HAPPY rosebud blooming
Upon thy parent tree,

Nay, thou art too presuming;
For soon the earth entombing

Thy faded charms shall be,
And the chill damp consuming.

O happy skylark springing

Up to the broad blue sky,
Too fearless in thy winging,
Too gladsome in thy singing,

Thou also soon shalt lie

Where no sweet notes are ringing.

And through life's shine and shower.
We shall have joy and pain ;

But in the summer bower,

And at the morning hour,

We still shall look in vain
For the same bird and flower.

I

LOVE FROM THE NORTH.

HAD a love in soft south land,

Beloved through April far in May;

He waited on my lightest breath,
And never dared to say me nay.

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