| |
| A GOOD wife rose from her bed one morn, | |
| And thought, with a nervous dread, | |
| Of the piles of clothes to be washed, and more | |
| Than a dozen mouths to be fed. | |
| “There ’s the meals to get for the men in the field, | 5 |
| And the children to fix away | |
| To school, and the milk to be skimmed and churned; | |
| And all to be done this day.” | |
| |
| It had rained in the night, and all the wood | |
| Was wet as it could be; | 10 |
| There were puddings and pies to bake, besides a loaf of cake for tea. | |
| And the day was hot, and her aching head | |
| Throbbed wearily as she said, | |
| “If maidens but knew what good wives know, | |
| They would not be in haste to wed!” | 15 |
| |
| “Jennie, what do you think I told Ben Brown?” | |
| Called the farmer from the well; | |
| And a flush crept up to his bronzèd brow, | |
| And his eyes half-bashfully fell. | |
| “It was this,” he said, and coming near | 20 |
| He smiled, and stooping down, | |
| Kissed her cheek,—“’t was this, that you were the best | |
| And the dearest wife in town!” | |
| |
| The farmer went back to the field, and the wife, | |
| In a smiling, absent way, | 25 |
| Sang snatches of tender little songs | |
| She ’d not sung for many a day. | |
| And the pain in her head was gone, and the clothes | |
| Were white as the foam of the sea; | |
| Her bread was light, and her butter was sweet, | 30 |
| And as golden as it could be. | |
| |
| “Just think,” the children all called in a breath, | |
| “Tom Wood has run off to sea! | |
| He wouldn’t, I know, if he ’d only had | |
| As happy a home as we.” | 35 |
| The night came down, and the good wife smiled | |
| To herself, as she softly said: | |
| “’T is so sweet to labor for those we love,— | |
| It ’s not strange that maids will wed!” | |
| |
