II

i

Now that the Lord has open'd me

The evil with the good,

I am as one wise suddenly

Who never understood.

I see the shaping of my days

From the beginning,

When, a young child, I walkt the ways

And knew nought of sinning.

I see how Nature ripen'd me

Under sun and shower,

As she ripens herb and tree

To bud and to flower.

As she ripens herb and tree

Unto flowering shoot,

So it was she ripen'd me

That I might fruit.

I see--alas, how should I not,

With all joy behind?--

How that in love I was begot

And for love design'd.

Consentient, my mother lent,

Blessing, who had been blest,

That fount unspent, my nourishment,

Which after swell'd my breast.

ii

I learned at home the laws of Earth:

The nest-law that says,

Stray not too far beyond the hearth,

Keep truth always;

And then the law of sip and bite:

Work, that there may be some

For you who crowd the board this night,

And the one that is to come.

The laws are so for bird and beast,

And so we must live:

They give the most who have the least,

And gain of what they give.

For working women 'tis the luck,

A child on the lap;

And when a crust he learn to suck,

Another's for the pap.

iii

I know 'tis true, the laws of Life

Are holy to the poor:

Cleave you to her who is your wife,

Trust you in her store;

Eat you with sweat your self-won meat,

Labour the stubborn sod,

And that your heat may quicken it,

Wait still upon God.

Hallow with praise the wheeling days

Until the cord goes slack,

Until the very heartstring frays,

Until the stiffening back

Can ply no more; keep then the door,

And, thankful in the sun,

Watch you the same unending war

Ontaken by your son.

iv

Who is to know how she does grow

Or how shapes her mind?

The seasons flow, not fast or slow,

We cannot lag behind.

The long winds blow, a tree lies low

That was an old friend:

The winter snow, the summer's glow--

Shall these things have an end?

When I was young I used to think

I should not taste of death;

And now I faint to reach the brink,

And grudge my every breath

That streameth to the utter air

Leaving me to my tears

And outlook bare, with eyes astare

Upon the creeping years.

v

That little old house that seems to stoop

Yellow under thatch,

Like a three-sided chicken-coop,

Where, if you watch,

You'll see the starlings go and come

All a spring morn--

Half of that is my old home

Where I was born.

One half a little old cottage

The five of us had,

Five tall sisters in a cage

With our Mother and Dad.

Alice she was the eldest one,

Then Mary, and then me,

And then Fanny, and little Joan,

The last-born was she.

Never a boy that liv'd to grow

Did our mother carry;

She us'd to wonder how she'd do

With five great girls to marry.

But once I heard her say to Dad,

A chain of pretty girls

Made out her neck the comelier clad

Than diamonds or pearls.

vi

How we did do on Father's money

Is more than I can tell:

There was the money from the honey,

And Mother's work as well;

For she did work with no more rest

Than the buzzing bees,

And the sight I knew and lov'd the best

Was Mother on her knees.

When we were fed and clean for school,

Out Mother goes,

Rinsing, rubbing, her hands full

Of other people's clothes.

If there's one thought above another

Sets my heart singing,

It's thinking of my little sweet Mother,

Her arms full of linen.

And yet she rul'd her house and all

Us girls within it;

There was no meal but we could fall

To it at the minute;

Thing there was none, said, thought or done,

But she must know it,

Nor any errand to be run

But she made us go it.

She with her anxious, watchful glance,

Blue under her glasses,

Was meat and drink and providence

To us five lasses.

Out she fetcht from hidden stores

White frocks for Sundays,

And always nice clean pinafores

Against school, Mondays.

She and Dad were little people,

But most of us were tall,

And I shot up like Chichester steeple;

Fan, she was small.

You never saw a kinder face

Or met with bluer eyes:

If ever there was a kissing-case

On her mouth it lies.

vii

When I was old enough for skipping

My school days began;

By Mary's side you'd see me tripping--

I was baby then.

A B C and One-two-three

Were just so much Greek;

But I could read, it seems to me,

As soon as I could speak.

Before I knew how fast I grew

I was the tallest there;

Before my time was two-thirds thro'

I must plait my hair;

Before our Alice took a place

And walkt beside her fancy,

I had on my first pair of stays

And saw myself Miss Nancy.

And then goodbye to form and desk

And sudden floods of noise

When fifteen minutes' fun and frisk

Make happy girls and boys.

As shrill as swifts in upper air

Was our young shrillness:

'Twas joy of life, 'twas strength to fare

Broke the morning stillness.

I see us flit, as here I sit

With wet-fring'd eyes,

And never rime or reason to it--

Like a maze of flies!

The boys would jump and catch your shoulder

Just for the fun of it--

They tease you worse as you grow older

Because you want none of it.

I hear them call their saucy names--

Mine was Maypole Nance;

I see our windy bickering games,

Half like a dance;

The opening and closing ring

Of pinafored girls,

And the wind that makes the cheek to sting

Blowing back their curls!

There in the midst is Sally Waters,

As it might be I,

With the idle song of Sons and Daughters

Drifting out and by

Sons and daughters! Break, break,

Heart, if you can--

How have they taught us treat sons and daughters

Since I began?

viii

There is a bank that always gets

The noon sun full;

There we'd hunt for violets

After morning school.

White and blue we hunted them

In the moss, and gave them,

Dropping-tir'd and short in stem,

To Mother. She must have them.

Primrose-mornings in the copse,

Autumn berrying

Where the dew for ever stops,

And the serrying,

Clinging shrouds of gossamers

Glue your eyes together;

Gleaning after harvesters

In the mild blue weather--

Life so full of bud and blossom,

Fallen like a tree!

Who gave me a woman's bosom--

And who has robb'd me?