IV

i

Out of the clear how shrewdly blows

The North-West wind!

Free as he goes, how brave he shows,

The sun seems blind!

The shadows fleet upon the grass

Where the kestrels hover--

What leagues of sorrow they must pass

Before they shroud my lover!

Half-naked now, confronting cold,

The tall trees shiver,

Each with its pool of pallid gold

Draining down to the river.

'Tis now when fret of winter wet

Warns the year she is old,

And she casts robe and coronet,

That I would loosen hold.

ii

Our lives creep on to change at last,

And change is sudden coming;

Rooted you see yourself and fast,

And then be sent roaming.

When I was come to twenty years,

Home for a spell,

Mother she brought a flush of tears

With what she had to tell.

There was a fine new place for me

Forty miles away--

And where my dream of what might be

One fine day?

The farmer's wife she kiss'd me kindly

When I was paid;

But Ted and I said Goodbye blindly,

And no more said.

No word between us of the thought

That fill'd four years,

No fond look caught by eyes well taught,

Tho' thick with tears!

'Twas Goodbye, Nance, and Goodbye, Ted,

And just a clasp of the hand:

Maybe I'll write, he might have said

For me to understand.

But poor people have need to work

Whether merry or sad,

Whatever groping thought do lurk,

Whatever dreams they've had!

I went my way and he kept his,

I to the county town,

He in a row of cottages

Below the hump-backt down.

iii

A town-bred girl, her hair in curl

And apron edged with lace,

She took me in, my head awhirl,

To my new place.

And there the five of us must hive

In that warm shutter'd house,

And keep our honesty alive

With none to counsel us.

The master and the mistresses,

What were they but strangers?

'Twas no part of their businesses

To think of servants' dangers.

They sneer at us, and we at them,

Life sunders where the stairs are:

But are the things that they condemn

In us much worse than theirs are?

iv

'Twas busy now I had to be,

And keep myself neat,

Dress in my new black gown by tea,

And streamer'd cap to it.

The brisk young men were plenty enough,

And talk about them plenty

Among us maids! No other stuff

Contents the tongue at twenty.

But Mother's words came back to me,

Told when I was little:

Mind you, the tongue's your only key,

And what it guards is brittle.

Love is the best; let go the rest,

But hold him by the wing

Until he's plumaged for the test--

Then let him soar and sing.

I took no harm of all their talk--

All talkt the same--

Tho' more than one askt me to walk

When my Sunday came;

But I held fast the dream I'd had

In the old farm,

And saw myself beside my lad,

My hand on his arm.

v

A year went on, and twenty-one

Saw me discarded.

They laught at me for constancy

Ne'er to be rewarded.

Then came a warm, still day of May

And brought me a letter.

I blusht so red, the cook she said,

Lucky man to get her!

At half-past three he came for me;

I dared not speak;

But there was all he need to see

Flaming in my cheek.

What better has the best of us

If kind Heaven grant her

A glowing hearth, a little house,

And a good man to want her?

In the soft shrouding clinging mist

His strong arms held me.

Our lips kept tryst, and long we kiss'd;

His great love fill'd me.

Sweet is the warmth of summer weather,

But the best fire I know

Is of two pair of lips together,

Two hearts in one glow.

His love he told, that made me bold

To look at him fairly,

And see the burning blush take hold

And colour him up rarely.

Within his ply though caught was I,

I backt a saucy head:

"Oh, I was shy a year gone by--

Your turn now," I said.

vi

Now would you prove the man I love

As I saw him then?

He was of them who're slow to move,

One of your still men;

One of your men self-communing

Who see sheep on a hill,

Ships out at sea or birds a-wing

Where you see _nil_.

And what they see they seldom say,

Holding speech to be vain;

And yet so kin to earth are they

They smell the coming rain.

The earth can teach them without speech,

They know as they are known--

Why should they preach to the out-of-reach,

Or counsel Nature's own?

He never was a man to talk,

He was too wise;

But things he'd see out on his walk

Would blind another's eyes.

But when it came to speak about them

'Twas another thing.

He'd say, "What use is it to shout them?

I want to sing!"

A smallish head, with jet-black hair

And eyes grey-blue,

You felt when'er he lookt you fair

That he must be true;

And when he smil'd his dear and shy way

Sidelong his mouth,

I always thought the sun fell my way

And the wind South.

So I possest the knowledge blest

That Love had held him fast

Since the day our eyes confest,

The first time and the last.

"Since then," he said, "I never durst

Look at you at all,

For fear you'd see the hunger and thirst

That kept me like a thrall.

vii

"'Twas when you went away and left

Me and pain alone,

By fortune's theft I stood bereft

Of all I'd counted on--

And this also, I ne'er could go

On my shepherd life,

Without I had the grace to woo

You my loving wife.

"There was a fate, I do believe,

Call'd us together;

God visit me when'er you grieve

Taking on my tether!

But if we share with every creature

That is quick and dead

The call of nature unto nature,

Then we two should wed.

"You are a beauty bred and born,

As any one can see;

You walk the world as if in scorn

Of riches or degree.

Your eyes call home the soft green tone

Of the fainting sky

When the eve-star keeps watch alone,

And the summer is nigh.

"But 'tis your grave and constant mind

Beckon'd me to you,

Too good, too sweet, too fond, too kind,

For me to be untrue.

So trust me, lass, I'll not be false

While I do live,

For we two go where Nature calls,

As I believe."

viii

Trust! Oh, I could have sunk to ground

And lain under his feet!

To have his praise was like a wound,

Throbbing and deadly sweet;

A wound that lets the welling blood

Ebb from the vein,

Merging the hurt in drowsihood,

And hushing down the pain.

High destiny of Nature's calling,

Foil'd and frustrate!

Just then the evil tide was crawling

To drown love in hate.

V

i

The meadows wear a cloth of gold,

The trees wear green;

Upon the down in dimpled fold

The white lambs glean;

Deep blue the skyey canopy,

Soft the wind's fan:

Behold the earth as it might be

If man lov'd man!

Summer is soon; the next new moon

Will see the yellowing wheat;

Then will be harvest, Earth's high boon

To them that work for it.

The reapers swink, the heat-waves blink

Across the drowsy fen--

Now let hearts shrink from scythes that drink

The blood of young men!

ii

As I stood at my open door

I caught a flying word:

Two strangers past, "Then that means war----"

That was what I heard.

'Twas ten o'clock, a summer's day,

My love on the hill.

"Then that means war," I heard them say,

And my heart stood still.

Life had been fair as I stood there,

Eight weeks a bride;

All of me laid warm and bare

To my true love's side!

Oh, who should dream of dark to-morrows

And lonely weeping

Whose steadfast joys and passing sorrows

Lay in such a keeping?

There blew a chill wind from the hill

Like a sea-breath;

I shiver'd and a taint of ill

Brought news of death.

I blinkt my eyes as who should try

To see what is to fear;

The sun still shone high in the sky,

But no warmth there.

Then far away I saw the sea

A rippling golden sheet,

And courage flowed again in me--

What foe could break thro' it?

And all about the fields and hedges,

There when I was born,

The river slipping through the sedges,

And the growing corn--

A land of quiet tilth and cote,

Of little woods and streams,

Of gentle skies and clouds afloat,

And swift sun-gleams!

A land where knee-deep cattle keep,

Chewing as they stand;

Of hillsides murmurous with sheep--

That is my native land!

They say you never love so dear

As when you are to part;

I know, to see my land so clear

Cut me to the heart.

What vain regrets to have lov'd so ill

What was our all!

What idle vows to love her still

Though she should fall!

At stroke of noon my love came in

Sharpset for his food;

To see him was right sense to win,

And feel safe and good.

I was asham'd my fears to tell

Lest he should think,

"I thought I knew this woman well--

But what makes her shrink?"

iii

The summer went her gracious way

Of sun and lingering eves;

I did my share to win the hay,

The corn stood in sheaves

Ere August month was fairly come;

And when it was here

I knew I carried in my womb

The harvest of my dear.

iv

When I was sure I sat down quiet

In the deep shade,

And if my heart was all in riot

I was not afraid.

I did not think, nor say a pray'r,

But lookt straight before me,

And felt that Someone else stood there

With hands held o'er me.

I thought His peace blest my increase;

But then, as it seem'd,

A shadow made my joy to cease,

And the day was dimm'd.

I shiver'd as if one a knife

Should pull forth of the sheath.

I think just then the Lord of Life

Gave way to Him of Death.

As one bestead with gossamer-thread

I pluckt at my eyes

To catch again the glory shed,

The hope, the load, the prize;

But no more hands invisible

Held like a shade o'er me,

And there seem'd little enough to tell

My husband momently.

The long forenoon my thought I held,

And yet all thro' it

The wires all England over shrill'd,

And I never knew it!

In a high muse I nurst my news

All the forenoon,

While England braced her limbs and thews

To a marching tune.

v

I serv'd my love, when he came home,

His meal; then on his knee

I told him what I might become,

And he kiss'd me;

Then said, "Indeed, there may be need

Of this little one,

For many a woman's heart must bleed

For wanting of a son.

"Since we awoke, the word is spoke,

And if 'tis still right

That English folk keep faith unbroke,

Then must England fight."

I could not look, nor think, nor ask

What himself would do,

But call'd to task my pride, to bask

In what had warm'd me thro'.

Oh, he was grave and self-possest

Under love's new crown!

He took me in his arms to rest,

And lay my head down

A moment on his shoulder; then

Went steady to his work.

I knew what fate soe'er call'd men

He was none to shirk.

Now I must play the helpful wife,

And my new pride

Be little worth to ease the strife

That vext me in the side;

For like a green and aching wound,

Like a throbbing vein

I felt this terror on the ground

Of young men slain.

The swooning summer sun sank low,

And all the dusty air

Held breathlessly beneath his glow,

So tir'd, so quiet and fair,

I would not think that men could live

In such glory a minute,

To hate and grudge, to slay and reive

Poor souls within it.

vi

I heard fond crying in my ears,

Fond and vain regret

For life as it had been ere tears

Made women's eyes wet;

I saw arise the host of stars

And listen'd to their song;

"O we have seen a thousand wars

And woe agelong!

"What are you men, what are you women

But a shifting sand?

The tide of life is overbrimming--

God holds not His hand;

But all the evil with the good

To His mill is grist;

He serves his mood now with man's blood

Who serv'd it once with beast."

So sang the stars. That night our love

Burn'd at its holiest;

For aught we knew the same might prove

Our last in the nest.

But from the bed my passion pled,

O God, let us be!

If woman's anguish her bestead,

Then forsake not me!

vii

I dare not trace that watching space

Of days, too short, too long--

Too long to wear a patient face,

Too short to wear a strong.

I us'd to think I'd have him choose

His duty and begone;

And then, No, no, I dare not lose

Him ere he take his son!

Too long, too short the days to wait,

To plan and think and dread;

And happy we whose poor estate

Claims our work for our bread.

Each day I went to scour and scrub

As my mother us'd,

Or stood before the washing-tub

Where the linen sluiced.

And so my love with careful hand

And careful eye

Led his white flock about the land;

And I must sigh,

"There's no rebelling in a poor man's dwelling,

The roof stoops to the blast;

And no heart-swelling meets God's compelling,

And what is cast is cast!"

viii

But as the tide crawls to his full

Without your knowing,

Invading rock and filling pool,

Endlessly flowing;

Lo, while you sit and look at it,

Idle, little thinking,

The flood is brimming at your feet,

Lipping there and winking--

The very same the Great War grew;

Like a flowing tide

It spread its channels thro' and thro'

The quiet countryside.

One day you'd stop: a poster up,

And Lord, how it glared!

The next there'd be a very crop,

And not a body stared.

And then the lorries flung along

By ones and twos, and then

In snaky line some twenty strong,

Full of shouting men.

They made me blench with noise and stench,

But more, I do believe,

To know them gaining inch by inch

The earth whereby we live.

So faded fast the painted past

Beneath the mist of war;

One could not think life had been cast

In sweet lines before.

There was no list in that red mist

For love or wholesome breath,

But making rage our staple grist

We ground the dust of death.

Our men held talk among themselves,

But said little to we;

And soon they went by tens and twelves

Soldiers to be.

I knew how 'twould be from the first,

I think my heart could tell;

I loved a man who never durst

Not do well.

ix

How young, how gay they marcht away,

All our village boys!

Leaving us women here to pray,

Drowning with their noise

Misdoubt and eager mother-love,

Hungry on the watch,

As if they went to race and shove

In a football match.

But my love chose in soberness

Another way, his own;

And God I bless that my distress

Came suddenly down.

A swift November night was falling

In a windless air;

I heard him indoors, heard him calling,

And went, and he was there.

x

He stood still, and his gaze

Was far off, and slow

And quiet the words he says:

"Nancy, I must go."

In my still heart's deep

I gloried in the trust

He handed me to keep,

In his quiet "I must."

No more we said that night,

But sat in the gloom;

We sat without candle-light

In our little room.

Handfast, like girl and boy,

There we sat on,

Hoarding our store of joy

Against he were gone.

Handfast, like boy and girl,

And my eyes they did fill;

But my heart was in a whirl

To have him there still.

'Twas when we were abed,

And I against his heart,

That I knew the great dread

It would be to part.

Old sayings, that sounded new,

Sweet, every broken word--

"My Nancy, sweet and true,

My pretty wild bird!"

I let him kiss me, but I

Lay quite still in his arm:

If I had started to cry

God only knew the harm!

And if he thought me cool

'Twould make an easier going;

But _if_ he thought me cool

'Twas not for want of knowing.

Towards the twilight gray

When my love was sleeping,

I sat upright to pray,

And heard the sparrows cheeping.

It was their fond love-twitter

That broke my prayer down,

Turn'd all my faith bitter,

To set it by their own.

Their love-life to begin,

And mine now--where?

Their nest to win,

Mine soon to be bare!

I lookt forth from my bed

To the cold square of the light--

Unto God I said,

"Show me why men must fight,

"You, Who to each one say,

Love you one another;

You, Who bid women obey

Husbands, and sons their mother;

"You, Who of me require

To love what I cannot see,

Milk and a heart of fire

To nourish what may not be!

"Shall my milk be churn'd into gall,

Or my blood freeze at the fount,

And You make light of it all,

And my love of little account?"

Then as I held my throat,

God answer'd me by a bird,

One long flourishing note,

The bravest I ever heard;

And I turn'd where my love lay fast

In his wholesome sleep;

About him my arms I cast

And found grace to weep.

He would do what was right,

As I knew very well--

Yes, but who made them fight,

And turn'd our heaven to hell?

The more I listen the sighs,

The mourning and the dearth,

The deeper my heart cries

Over this wounded earth.