| |
| SHE laid it where the sunbeams fall | |
| Unscanned upon the broken wall. | |
| Without a tear, without a groan, | |
| She laid it near a mighty stone, | |
| Which some rude swain had haply cast | 5 |
| Thither in sport, long ages past, | |
| And time with mosses had o’erlaid, | |
| And fenced with many a tall grass-blade, | |
| And all about bid roses bloom | |
| And violets shed their soft perfume. | 10 |
| There, in its cool and quiet bed, | |
| She set her burden down and fled: | |
| Nor flung, all eager to escape, | |
| One glance upon the perfect shape, | |
| That lay, still warm and fresh and fair, | 15 |
| But motionless and soundless there. | |
| No human eye had marked her pass | |
| Across the linden-shadowed grass | |
| Ere yet the minster clock chimed seven: | |
| Only the innocent birds of heaven— | 20 |
| The magpie, and the rook whose nest | |
| Swings as the elm-tree waves his crest— | |
| And the lithe cricket, and the hoar | |
| And huge-limbed hound that guards the door, | |
| Looked on when, as a summer wind | 25 |
| That, passing, leaves no trace behind, | |
| All unapparelled, barefoot all, | |
| She ran to that old ruined wall, | |
| To leave upon the chill dank earth | |
| (For ah! she never knew its worth), | 30 |
| Mid hemlock rank, and fern and ling, | |
| And dews of night, that precious thing! | |
| And then it might have lain forlorn | |
| From morn to eve, from eve to morn: | |
| But, that, by some wild impulse led, | 35 |
| The mother, ere she turned and fled, | |
| One moment stood erect and high; | |
| Then poured into the silent sky | |
| A cry so jubilant, so strange, | |
| That Alice—as she strove to range | 40 |
| Her rebel ringlets at her glass— | |
| Sprang up and gazed across the grass; | |
| Shook back those curls so fair to see, | |
| Clapped her soft hands in childish glee; | |
| And shrieked—her sweet face all aglow, | 45 |
| Her very limbs with rapture shaking— | |
| “My hen has laid an egg, I know; | |
| And only hear the noise she ’s making!” | |
| |
