My bridegroom answered in his turn,
Myself had almost answered "yea:"

When through the flashing nave I heard
A struggle and resounding "nay."

Bridemaids and bridegroom shrank in fear,
But I stood high who stood at bay:

"And if I answer yea, fair Sir,

What man art thou to bar with nay?"

He was a strong man from the north,

Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous gray :

"Put yea by for another time

In which I will not say thee nay.”

He took me in his strong white arms,

He bore me on his horse away O'er crag, morass, and hairbreadth

pass,

But never asked me yea or nay.

He made me fast with book and bell,

With links of love he makes me stay ;

Till now I've neither heart nor power

Nor will nor wish to say him nay.

WINTER RAIN.

Every valley drinks,

Every dell and hollow:

Where the kind rain sinks and sinks,

Green of Spring will follow.

Yet a lapse of weeks

Buds will burst their edges,

Strip their wool-coats, glue-coats, streaks,

In the woods and hedges;

Weave a bower of love

For birds to meet each other,

Weave a canopy above

Nest and egg and mother.

But for fattening rain

We should have no flowers,

Never a bud or leaf again

But for soaking showers;

Never a mated bird

In the rocking tree-tops,

Never indeed a flock or herd

To graze upon the lea-crops.

Lambs so woolly white,

Sheep the sun-bright leas on,

They could have no grass to bite But for rain in season.

We should find no moss

In the shadiest places,

Find no waving meadow grass

Pied with broad-eyed daisies :

But miles of barren sand,

With never a son or daughter,

Not a lily on the land,

Or lily on the water.