428
POEMS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
Nor less bewildered on the following day,
He kissed, he found excuse near her to stay,—
Was it not love? And yet the truth to speak,
Playing the fool for haply half a week,
He yet had fled, so strong within him dwelt
The horror of the sin, and such he felt
The miseries to the woman that ensue.
He wearied long his brain with reasonings fine,
But when at evening dusk he came to dine,
In linsey petticoat and jacket blue
She stood, so radiant and so modest too,
All into air his strong conclusions flew.
Now should he go. But dim and drizzling too,
For a night march, to-night will hardly do,
A march of sixteen weary miles of way.
No, by the chances which our lives obey,
No, by the Heavens and this sweet face, he'll stay.
He kissed, he found excuse near her to stay,—
Was it not love? And yet the truth to speak,
Playing the fool for haply half a week,
He yet had fled, so strong within him dwelt
The horror of the sin, and such he felt
The miseries to the woman that ensue.
He wearied long his brain with reasonings fine,
But when at evening dusk he came to dine,
In linsey petticoat and jacket blue
She stood, so radiant and so modest too,
All into air his strong conclusions flew.
Now should he go. But dim and drizzling too,
For a night march, to-night will hardly do,
A march of sixteen weary miles of way.
No, by the chances which our lives obey,
No, by the Heavens and this sweet face, he'll stay.
A week he stayed, and still was loth to go,
But she grew anxious and would have it so.
Her time of service shortly would be o'er,
And she would leave; her mistress knew before.
Where would she go? To Glasgow, if she could;
Her father's sister would be kind and good;
An only child she was, an orphan left,
Of all her kindred, save of this, bereft.
Said he, 'Your guide to Glasgow let me be
You little know, you have not tried the sea,
Say, at the ferry when are we to meet?
Thither, I guess, you travel on your feet.'
She would 'be there on Tuesday next at three;
'O dear, how glad and thankful she would be;
But don't,' she said, 'be troubled much for me.'
But she grew anxious and would have it so.
Her time of service shortly would be o'er,
And she would leave; her mistress knew before.
Where would she go? To Glasgow, if she could;
Her father's sister would be kind and good;
An only child she was, an orphan left,
Of all her kindred, save of this, bereft.
Said he, 'Your guide to Glasgow let me be
You little know, you have not tried the sea,
Say, at the ferry when are we to meet?
Thither, I guess, you travel on your feet.'
She would 'be there on Tuesday next at three;
'O dear, how glad and thankful she would be;
But don't,' she said, 'be troubled much for me.'
