“THE house is bleak and cold
Built so new for me!
All the winds upon the wold
Search it through for me;
No screening trees abound,
And the curious eyes around
Keep on view for me.”
“My Love, I am planting trees
As a screen for you
Both from winds, and eyes that tease
And peer in for you.
Only wait till they have grown,
No such bower will be known
As I mean for you.”
“Then I will bear it, Love,
And will wait,” she said.
—So, with years, there grew a grove.
“Skill how great!” she said.
“As you wished, Dear?”—“Yes, I see!
But—I’m dying; and for me
’Tis too late,” she said.