University of Virginia Library


36

DICHTER UND BAUERIN

My soul is full of love for her,
Whatever she may be:
And well I know, her pulses stir
Only with love for me.
All, all are mine! And every beat
In that true heart of hers
Recalls our far-off days and sweet—
Young Love's interpreters.
She, bred to labour with her hands,
And train'd by that alone:
Obeying other folks' commands
Although she was my own:
While I in fields of larger growth
And wider culture stray'd,
Yet ne'er forgot my plighted troth
To that untutor'd maid.
Ah me, those waiting years were long!
Yet they were fond and free;
She knew I would not do her wrong:
For love is purity.
At last, at last, the wedding came,
And her few friends were there:
But, though she bore to take my name,
My place she would not share.

37

Still she preferr'd her own degree;
For thus, throughout her life,
She could be all in all to me:
My servant, and my wife.
Shall I then love her less, for this?
Or shall I feel ashamed
To stand beside her as she is—
Obscure, and never named
Save in those dwellings of the poor
Whereof her home is one—
A cottage with an open door,
Not closed till day is done?
No! For beside that cottage fire,
Where we together live,
A nobler spirit dwells and higher,
Than rank or wealth can give.