ND I have said, and I say it ever, As the years go on and the world goes over, "Twere better to be content and clever In tending of cattle and tossing of clover, In the grazing of cattle and the growing of grain, For they lie down and their rests are rests, Till the heart is sicken'd and the fair hope dead; Be even as clover with its crown of blossoms, Kiss'd by kine and the brown sweet bee, For these have the sun, and moon, and air, And with all of our caring what more have we I would woo her, win her, and wear her only, For gold or glory or for aught at all." ? He said these things as he stood with the Squire By the river's rim in the fields of clover, While the stream flow'd under and the clouds flew over, With the sun tangled in and the fringes afire. So the Squire lean'd with a kind desire To humour his guest, and to hear his story; For his guest had gold, and he yet was clever, And mild of manner; and, what was more, he, In the morning's ramble, had praised the kine, The clover's reach and the meadows fine, His brow was brown'd by the sun and weather, There were hoops of gold all over his hands, And the belts of gold were bright in the sun, As he said hot-faced in the face of the Squire :— "The pines bow'd over, the stream bent under The cabin cover'd with thatches of palm, Down in a cañon so deep, the wonder Was what it could know in its clime but calm. Down in a cañon so cleft asunder By sabre-stroke in the young world's prime, It look'd as if broken by bolts of thunder, And this in the land where the sun goes down, Nor comes in a tour with the stately June, "She stood in the shadows as the sun went down, Fretting her curls with her fingers brown, As tall as the silk-tipp'd tassel'd corn— Stood strangely watching as I weigh'd the gold We had wash'd that day where the river roll'd; And her proud lip curl'd with a sun-clime scorn, As she ask'd, 'Is she better or fairer than I?— She, that blonde in the land beyond, Where the sun is hid and the seas are high That you gather in gold as the years go on, As a squirrel burrows the black pine-burr?' "Now the gold weigh'd well, but was lighter of weight Than we two had taken for days of late, So I was fretted, and, brow a-frown, I said, 'She is fairer, and I loved her first, And shall love her last come the worst to worst.' Now her eyes were black and her skin was brown, As I said this thing: and higher and higher It look'd as the clouds had caught the fire— "She turn'd from the door and down to the river, And mirror'd her face in the whimsical tide; Then threw back her hair, as if throwing a quiver, |