And come from evening's chilly shades,

In home, I took, at night,

My place within the settle's back,

With face in fire-light,

Where one would spread my evening board

With soul-beguiling smile and word.

Then high above the chimney top,
Might cry the wind, and low

Might sound, beside my window panes,
And round my porch's bow,

Its sounds that now so sadly moan

Where one sweet voice no more is known.

How sweetly seem'd the running waves

To meet the mossy rock,

As quickly-flapping flames might play

By tickings of the clock;

But now their sounds are sad to hear,

Since one sweet tongue no more is near.

THE FIRESIDE CHAIRS

HUSBAND TO WIFE

THE daylight gains upon the night,
And birds are out in later flight;

'Tis cold enough to spread our hands,

Once now and then, to glowing brands.
So now we two are here alone

To make a quiet hour our own,
We'll take, with face to face, once more
Our places on the warm hearth floor,

Where you shall have the window view

Outside, and I can look on you.

When first I brought you home, my bride,

In yellow glow of summer tide,

I wanted you to take a chair

On that side of the fire-out there

And have the ground and sky in sight,
With face against the window light;
While I, back here, should have my brow
In shade, and sit where I am now;
That you might see the land outside,
And I might look on you, my bride.

And there the gliding waters spread,

By waving elm-trees over head,
Below the hill that slopes above

The path, along the high-treed grove,

Where sighing winds once whisper'd down

Our whisper'd words; and there's the crown

Of Duncliffe hill, where widening shades

Of timber fall on sloping glades:
So you enjoy the green and blue
Without, and I will look on you.

And there we pull'd, within the copse,

With nutting-crooks the hazel tops,

That now arise, unleaved and black,

Too thin to keep the wind-blast back ;
And there's the church, and spreading lime,
Where we did meet at evening time,

In clusters, on the beaten green,

In glee, to see and to be seen;

All old sights, welcomer than new,
And look'd on, as I look'd on you.

COME AND MEET ME

HUSBAND TO WIFE

WELL, to day, then, I shall roll off on the road Round by Woodcombe, out to Shellbrook, to the mill ; With my brand-new little spring-cart, with a load, To come loadless round by Chalk-hill, at my will: As the whole day will be dry,

By the tokens of the sky,

Come to meet me, with the children, on the road.

For the sunshine, from the blue sky's hollow height, Now is glitt'ring on the stream-wave, and the sedge; And the orchard is a broad sheet of the white

Of new blossom, over blossom on the hedge :