And other sheep from her I raised, Of sheep I number'd a full score, 4 'Year after year my stock it grew; Is all that is alive; And now I care not if we die, And perish all of poverty. 5 'Six children, sir, had I to feed ; My pride was tamed, and in our grief, 'Do this; how can we give to you,' 6 'I sold a sheep, as they had said, And bought my little children bread, And they were healthy with their food; A woful time it was for me, To see the end of all my gains, The pretty flock which I had rear'd With all my care and pains, 7 Another still! and still another! A little lamb, and then its mother! They dwindled, dwindled, one by one; Reckless of what might come at last, 8 To wicked deeds I was inclined, I went my work about ; And oft was moved to flee from home And hide my head where wild beasts roam. 9 'Sir, 'twas a precious flock to me, God cursed me in my sore distress ; And every week, and every day, I had but only one : And here it lies upon my arm, Alas, and I have none; To-day I fetch'd it from the rock— It is the last of all my flock.' W. Wordsworth CLXI THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST Little Ellie sits alone 'Mid the beeches of a meadow, By a stream-side on the grass; And the trees are showering down She has thrown her bonnet by; Little Ellie sits alone, And the smile she softly useth Fills the silence like a speech: While she thinks what shall be done, And the sweetest pleasure chooseth For her future, within reach. Little Ellie in her smile That swan's nest among the reeds. 'And the steed it shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble, With an eye that takes the breath, As his sword strikes men to death. 'And the steed it shall be shod All in silver, housed in azure, And the mane shall swim the wind; And the hoofs along the sod Shall flash onward and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind. Y 'He will kiss me on the mouth Then, and lead me as a lover, Through the crowds that praise his deeds; And, when soul-tied by one troth, Unto him I will discover That swan's nest among the reeds.' Little Ellie, with her smile What more eggs were with the two. Pushing through the elm-tree copse, Ellie went home sad and slow. If she found the lover ever, With his red-roan steed of steeds, Sooth I know not! but I know She could never show him-never, That swan's nest among the reeds. CLXII SONG E. B. Browning I wander'd by the brook-side, I wander'd by the mill,— |