"Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay. "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, "But low of cattle, and song of birds, And health, and quiet, and loving words." And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. But he thought of his sister, proud and cold So, closing his heart, the judge rode on, Ther talked of the haying, and wondered And Maud was left in the field alone. whether The cloud in the west would bring foul But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, weather. When he hummed in court an old love tuno: Mother, mother, thou art kind, That rays off into the gloom! Ghostly mother, keep aloof One hour longer from my soul- Earth's warm-beating joy and dole! Little sister, thou art pale! Ah, I have a wandering brain— And my thoughts grow calm again. Dear, I heard thee in the spring, Boughs of May-bloom for the bees. What a day it was, that day! Hills and vales did openly Seem to heave and throb away, At the sight of the great sky; And the silence, as it stood In the glory's golden flood, Audibly did bud--and bud! Through the winding hedgerows green, How we wandered, I and you,— And the gates that showed the view- Till the pleasure, grown too strong, |