Page:Pleasant Memories.pdf/160

A hillock stretched o'ershadowed by a growth
Of newly-planted trees. 'T would seem the abode
Of rural plenty and content. Yet here
A desolate sorrow dwelt, such as doth wring
Plain honest hearts, when what had long been twined
With every fibre is dissected out.

Beneath the shelter of those lowly eaves
An only daughter made the parents glad
With her unfolding beauties. Day by day
She gathered sweetness on her lonely stem,
The lily of the moorlands. They, with thoughts
Upon their humble tasks, how best to save
Their little gains, or make that little more,
Scarce knew that she was beautiful; yet felt
Strange thrall upon their spirits when she spoke
So musical, or from some storied page
Beguiled their evening hour.
                                        And when the sire
Descanted long, as farmers sometimes will,
Upon the promise of his crops, and how
The neighbors envied that his corn should be
Higher than theirs, and how the man, who hoped
Surely to thrive, must leave his bed betimes,
Or of her golden cheese the mother told,
She with a filial and serene regard
Would seem to listen, her young heart away
Mid other things.
                         For in her lonely room,