Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling, While the silver tears ran faster down the blushing of her cheeks; Then with both her hands enfolding both of his, she softly told him, "Bertram, if I say I love thee, speaks!" 'tis the vision only Softened, quickened to adore her, on his knee he fell before her And she whispered low in triumph-" It shall be as I have sworn ! Very rich he is in virtues,—very noble-noble, certes ; And I shall not blush in knowing that men call him lowly born!" ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. Bertha in the Lane. PUT the broidery-frame away, For my sewing is all done! The last thread is used to-day, Sweet, for thee, a wedding-gown. Sister, help me to the bed, And stand near me, dearest-sweet! Do not shrink nor be afraid, Blushing with a sudden heat! No one standeth in the street ?— Lean thy face down! drop it in These two hands, that I may hold "Twixt their palms thy cheek and chin, Stroking back the curls of gold. 'Tis a fair, fair face, in soothLarger eyes and redder mouth Than mine were in my first youth! Thou art younger by seven years— Have I not been nigh a mother Mother, mother, up in heaven, Stand up on the jasper sea, And be witness I have given All the gifts required of me ;— Hope that blessed me, bliss that crowned, Love that left me with a wound, Life itself, that turned around! Mother, mother, thou art kind, Thou art standing in the room,— In a molten glory shrined, That rays off into the gloom! But thy smile is bright and bleak, Ghostly mother, keep aloof One hour longer from my soul For I still am thinking of Earth's warm-beating joy and dole! On my finger is a ring Which I still see glittering, When the night hides everything. Little sister, thou art pale! Ah, I have a wandering brain- And my thoughts grow calm again. Dear, I heard thee in the spring, Thee and Robert-through the trees,— When we all went gathering Boughs of May-bloom for the bees. Do not start so! think, instead, How the sunshine overhead Seemed to trickle through the shade. What a day it was, that day! Through the winding hedgerows green, How we wandered, I and you,— With the bowery tops shut in, And the gates that showed the view! How we talked there! thrushes soft Sang our pauses out,—or oft Bleatings took them, from the croft. Till the pleasure, grown too strong, I sat down beneath the beech But the sound grew into word As the speakers drew more near— What you wished me not to hear. Yes, and he too ! let him stand In thy thoughts, untouched by blame. Could he help it, if my hand He had claimed with hasty claim? That was wrong perhaps—but then Had he seen thee, when he swore To our kin in Sidmouth town. Could we blame him with grave words, And that hour-beneath the beech- Till it burst with that last strain. I fell flooded with a dark, In the silence of a swoon; When I rose, still, cold, and stark, There was night,-I saw the moon; And the stars, each in its place, And the May-blooms on the grass, Seemed to wonder what I was. |