Oh,  she  knew  that  she  was  stupid ;  how

I  ever  came  to  wed
Such  a  silly  girl  as  she  was,  she  never

could  make  out ;
But  she  could  not  keep  the  garden,  if

I  would  have  every  bed
Free  for  birds  and  beasts  and  creatures

to  write  poetry  about.
It   was   nice    to   hear    the    throstles

answering  on  the  evening  breeze.
And  to  watch  the  short,  sharp  rushes

of  the  blackbird  on  the  lawn ;
But  there  would  not  be  a  cherry  left

upon  the  loaded  trees.
And  the  pease  were  black  with  cawing

rooks  about  the  early  dawn.
A  shadow  fell  on  me  at  this  ;  for  love,

yoimg  love,  had  thrown
A  glamour  all  about  her,  wreathed  a

glory  round  her  face.
Sought  in  her  high  inspiration ;    and

one  does  not  like  to  own
That   liis  dream    is  somewhat  faded,

and  a  little  commonplace.
IS2


Hilda  among  the  Broken  Gods


Vexed,  and   slightly  disappointed ! —

still  our  love  was  fond  and  true,
And  trustful  and  sufficing ;  so  it  did

not  matter  much ;
But  I  sat  the  more  alone,  and  hid  my

labour  from  her  view.
For  I  felt  the  poet's  shrinking  from

unsympathetic  touch.
And  my  speech  grew  shallow  to  her,

and  my  feeling  oft  was  spent
In  small   enforced  humour  to   laugh

poetry  away ;
And  crackling  jests  would  flicker  round

the  higher  sentiment.
Turning    pathos    into    laughter,    and

earnest  into  play.
Of  course,  it  was  not  good  for  me ;
but  I  could  shelter  her.
Belying  my  own  nature ;  and  I
scrupled  not  at  that.
If  I  might  but  dream  in  secret  when
the  owlets  were  astir,

And  hooted  from  the  ivy  to  the  moon-
bewildered  bat.
