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I rose with early morning light, The meadows grey with rime, To set the kitchen fire, and dight The room for breakfast-time; Or make the beds, or rinse and scour, And all the while A singing heart, a face aflower, And secret smile.

So 'twas with me week in, week out, And no more to be said; A moment's look, a hint of doubt, A half-turn of the head. I had my hands as full as full, And full of work was he— But I learn'd in another school After he'd lookt at me.