 | Vulgar Verses |  |
31
Mistress Mary.
Mistress Mary sits alone,
On the hill, upon a stone,
And the brightness all is gone
From her eyes:
What she feels, she cannot tell;
But she sees both heaven and hell,
And she thinks it may be well
If she dies.
On the hill, upon a stone,
And the brightness all is gone
From her eyes:
What she feels, she cannot tell;
But she sees both heaven and hell,
And she thinks it may be well
If she dies.
Mistress Mary is but young;
And the folk she dwells among
Use a very different tongue
From her own;
They are north and she is south,
And their rugged speech uncouth
To her rosy little mouth
Scarce is known.
And the folk she dwells among
Use a very different tongue
From her own;
They are north and she is south,
And their rugged speech uncouth
To her rosy little mouth
Scarce is known.
Then they are not half so kind
As the friends she left behind
Where the scented southern wind
Loves to come:
She is wondering even now
If the breezes on her brow
Are the same that used to blow
Round her home.
As the friends she left behind
Where the scented southern wind
Loves to come:
34
If the breezes on her brow
Are the same that used to blow
Round her home.
'Tis an hundred miles away;
But she knows that many a day
She has heard among the hay
Such a breeze,
Blowing low and blowing high,
None knew whence and none knew why,
O'er the land and o'er the sky
And the seas.
But she knows that many a day
She has heard among the hay
Such a breeze,
Blowing low and blowing high,
None knew whence and none knew why,
O'er the land and o'er the sky
And the seas.
Oh, if only she could move
On the happy wings of love
From the hill and from the grove
To his side—
Flying free and flying fair
Through the sunny fields of air,
With fresh flowers on her hair
Like a bride!
On the happy wings of love
From the hill and from the grove
To his side—
Flying free and flying fair
Through the sunny fields of air,
With fresh flowers on her hair
Like a bride!
'Tis a folly, 'tis a dream:
Yet how true her fancies seem,
And how vividly they gleam
Through her tears!
She can never quite forget
That her eyes have oft been wet
For a man she has not met—
Oh, for years.
Yet how true her fancies seem,
And how vividly they gleam
Through her tears!
She can never quite forget
That her eyes have oft been wet
For a man she has not met—
Oh, for years.
35
But she rises—it is late;
They will wonder, they will wait,
They may lock the garden gate
In the vale:
They will say (she hopes they will)
'Tis the cold air on the hill,
That has made her look so ill
And so pale.
They will wonder, they will wait,
They may lock the garden gate
In the vale:
They will say (she hopes they will)
'Tis the cold air on the hill,
That has made her look so ill
And so pale.
What is this? A sound of fear
In the woodland, rustling near—
Surely no one has been here
Since she came?
She is startled; she must go:
Ah, 'twas always even so;
Thoughts of love and thoughts of woe
Are the same.
In the woodland, rustling near—
Surely no one has been here
Since she came?
She is startled; she must go:
Ah, 'twas always even so;
Thoughts of love and thoughts of woe
Are the same.
And she trembles, and she stands
With her face between her hands,
Bound and fetter'd in the bands
Of alarm:
And her maiden heart grows cold
As she feels a something bold
Coming nearer; and behold
'Tis an arm!
With her face between her hands,
Bound and fetter'd in the bands
Of alarm:
And her maiden heart grows cold
As she feels a something bold
Coming nearer; and behold
'Tis an arm!
With a sick and shuddering dread
And a wish that she were dead
Does she turn her graceful head
Just to see;
Then, the love wherewith she burns
Brightens up in her, and yearns
Toward the man to whom she turns:
It is He!
And a wish that she were dead
Does she turn her graceful head
36
Then, the love wherewith she burns
Brightens up in her, and yearns
Toward the man to whom she turns:
It is He!
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