And led him into each recess, and showed The secret places of their new abode. Nor these alone, for all had been prepared Before, to soothe the lover's lot she shared; The mat for rest; for dress the fresh gnatoo, The sandal-oil to fence against the dew; For food the cocoa-nut, the yam, the bread Born of the fruit; for board the plantain spread With its broad leaf, or turtle-shell which bore A banquet in the flesh if covered o'er; The gourd with water recent from the rill, The ripe banana from the mellow hill; A pine torch pile to keep undying light; And she herself as beautiful as night, To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the O perfumed suitor, spare thy smiles! Her heart is like an outbound ship She sings, and, smiling, hears her praise, But dreams the while of one Who watches from his sea-blown deck The icebergs in the sun. She questions all the winds that blow, She speeds them with the thanks of men He perilled life to save, And grateful prayers like holy oil To smooth for him the wave. Brown Viking of the fishing-smack! But ne'er shall Amy Wentworth wear For him the blush of shame The stream is brightest at its spring, Full lightly shall the prize be won, Her home is brave in Jaffrey Street, Still green about its ample porch The English ivy twines, Trained back to show in English oak The herald's carven signs. I trow they did not part in scorn: Lovers long-betrothed were they: They two will wed the morrow morn: God's blessing on the day! "He does not love me for my birth, Nor for my lands so broad and fair; He loves me for my own true worth, And that is well," said Lady Clare. In there came old Alice the nurse, Said, "Who was this that went from thee?" "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare, "To-morrow he weds with me." |