University of Virginia Library


73

WHY SHE LOVES ME.

It is happiness to be
Loved by one so good as she,
Loved, and that so tenderly.
‘Why is it she loves me so?’
Into the deep woods I go
Pondering, that I may know.
Underneath the branches spread
Green and tentlike overhead,
Full of happiness I tread.
Soon I find a pleasant seat
Hidden from the summer heat,
Leaves and flowers at my feet.

74

Opposite, around a tree
Climbs a vine, most tenderly
Clasping it and fair to see.
Through the fanlike leaves appear
Pendulous like braids of hair,
Slender bunches everywhere.
Truly now I understand
Why, and guided by what hand,
I alone her heart command.
Outwardly she sees me rough:
That my heart of better stuff
Is,—she knoweth well enough.
What is it to her or me,
If of all ill-judged I be,
So that understandeth she.

75

Well, if she can trust me so,
When the winds begin to blow,
Place of shelter shall she know.
During Winters long and drear,
When the fruits all disappear,
Snow and sorrow everywhere,
She shall in my arms remain,
Comforted and quit of pain,
Till the Summers come again.
1846.