iii

No word he said, but turned his head After he'd lookt at me. I coloured up a burning red, Setting the cloth for tea. The board was spread with cakes and bread For farmer in his sleeves, For mistress and the shepherd Ted; They talkt of hogs and theaves—

But nothing ate I where I sat, So bashful as I was, But kept my eyes upon my plate And pray'd the minutes pass. Tic-toc, tic-toc from great old clock, The long hand did creep; And every stroke in my heart woke Nature out of her sleep.

So once, they tell, did Gabriel Name a young Maid For honour and a miracle, And few words she said; But things have changed a wondrous deal Since she was nam'd, If to her room she did not steal As if she were asham'd;

And there upon her bed to sit Astare, as I guess, Watching her fingers weave and knit, Bedded in her dress, A-thinking thoughts in her young mind Too wild for tears to gain, As when the roaring North-West wind Gives no time to the rain.