A Villager

There was no lad handsomer than Willie was The day that he came to father's house: There was none had an eye as soft an' blue As Willie's was, when he came to woo.

To a labouring life though bound thee be, An' I on my father's ground live free, I'll take thee, I said, for thy manly grace, Thy gentle voice an' thy loving face.

'Tis forty years now since we were wed: We are ailing an' grey needs not to be said: But Willie's eye is as blue an' soft As the day when he wooed me in father's croft.

Yet changed am I in body an' mind, For Willie to me has ne'er been kind: Merrily drinking an' singing with the men He 'ud come home late six nights o' the se'n.

An' since the children be grown an' gone He 'as shunned the house an' left me lone: An' less an' less he brings me in Of the little he now has strength to win.

The roof lets through the wind an' the wet, An' master won't mend it with us in 's debt: An' all looks every day more worn, An' the best of my gowns be shabby an' torn.

No wonder if words hav' a-grown to blows; That matters not while nobody knows: For love him I shall to the end of life, An' be, as I swore, his own true wife.

An' when I am gone, he'll turn, an' see His folly an' wrong, an' be sorry for me: An' come to me there in the land o' bliss To give me the love I looked for in this.

19

Weep not to-day: why should this sadness be? Learn in present fears To o'ermaster those tears That unhindered conquer thee.

Think on thy past valour, thy future praise: Up, sad heart, nor faint In ungracious complaint, Or a prayer for better days.

Daily thy life shortens, the grave's dark peace Draweth surely nigh, When good-night is good-bye; For the sleeping shall not cease.

Fight, to be found fighting: nor far away Deem, nor strange thy doom. Like this sorrow 'twill come, And the day will be to-day.