I bowed the treble before her father, Michael the tenor in front of the lady, The bass-viol Reub—and right well played he!— The serpent Jim; ay, to church and back. I thought the bridegroom was flurried rather, As we kept up the tune outside the chancel, While they were swearing things none can cancel Inside the walls to our drumstick’s whack. “Too gay!” she pleaded. “Clouds may gather, And sorrow come.” But she gave in, laughing, And by supper-time when we’d got to the quaffing Her fears were forgot, and her smiles weren’t slack. A grand wedding ’twas! And what would follow We never thought. Or that we should have buried her On the same day with the man that married her, A day like the first, half hazy, half clear. Yes: little fogs were in every hollow, Though the purple hillocks enjoyed fine weather, When we went to play ’em to church together, And carried ’em there in an after year. FIRST OR LAST (SONG) IF grief come early Joy comes late, If joy come early Grief will wait; Aye, my dear and tender! Wise ones joy them early While the cheeks are red, Banish grief till surly Time has dulled their dread. And joy being ours Ere youth has flown, The later hours May find us gone; Aye, my dear and tender! LONELY DAYS LONELY her fate was, Environed from sight In the house where the gate was Past finding at night. None there to share it, No one to tell: Long she’d to bear it, And bore it well. Elsewhere just so she Spent many a day; Wishing to go she Continued to stay. And people without Basked warm in the air, But none sought her out, Or knew she was there. Even birthdays were passed so, Sunny and shady: Years did it last so For this sad lady. Never declaring it, No one to tell, Still she kept bearing it— Bore it well. The days grew chillier, And then she went To a city, familiar In years forespent, When she walked gaily Far to and fro, But now, moving frailly, Could nowhere go. The cheerful colour Of houses she’d known Had died to a duller And dingier tone. Streets were now noisy Where once had rolled A few quiet coaches, Or citizens strolled. Through the party-wall Of the memoried spot They danced at a ball Who recalled her not. Tramlines lay crossing Once gravelled slopes, Metal rods clanked, And electric ropes. So she endured it all, Thin, thinner wrought, Until time cured it all, And she knew nought. Versified from a Diary. “WHAT DID IT MEAN?” What did it mean that noontide, when You bade me pluck the flower Within the other woman’s bower, Whom I knew nought of then?