Poems (Argent)/Chance

by Alice Emily Argent

CHANCE.

ACROSS the shining fields she sped
 Adown the lane so shady,
A cuckoo bonnet on her head,
 In truth a winsome lady.
"The sun is shining, make your hay,"
We heard her singing all the way.

It was a day so calm and bright,
 The hills looked warm and hazy,
And through the meadows flecked with light
 Sprang daisy upon daisy,
And buttercups with crowns of gold
Stood up with shining faces bold.

Her footsteps hardly brushed the grass,
 She trod so light and airy,
So fleet of foot this bonnie lass,
 This frisky little fairy.
"The sun is shining, make your hay,
Time flies," we heard her laughing say.

By violet bank where feathery fern
 Hid deep in mossy hollow,
Through tangled pathways she did turn
 As swift as any swallow.
And singing ever, she did say,
"The sun is shining, make your hay."

And she was first within the field,
 We followed quickly after,
I saw her hold the rake and wield
 It well with shouts of laughter.
She handled it with buoyant ease,
Do what she would she could but please.

The fairest day must have an end
 And love receive a warning,
A lover may be termed a friend
 In spite of merry scorning.
Meanwhile she sang a festive lay
That told us she had made her hay!

And then it chanced that when the sun
 Was setting broad and stately,
I hailed a smile, a heart was won,
 A question asked sedately!
Though hands were buried in the hay
To eyes and hearts Love found his way!

I led her to the quaint old stile,
 Beneath the beech boughs shady,
I won from her a coy sweet smile,
 The heart of a true lady.
None ever blamed me for the hay
I made with her that summer day!