I do not guess his name Who wrought my Mother's shame, And gave me life forlorn, But my Mother, Mother, Mother, I know her from all other. My Mother pale and mild, Fair as ever was seen, She was but scarce sixteen, Little more than a child, When I was born To work her scorn. With secret bitter throes, In a passion of secret woes, She bore me under the rose. One who my Mother nursed Took me from the first:-- "O nurse, let me look upon This babe that cost so dear; To-morrow she will be gone: Other mothers may keep Their babes awake and asleep, But I must not keep her here."-- Whether I know or guess, I know this not the less. So I was sent away That none might spy the truth: And my childhood waxed to youth And I left off childish play. I never cared to play With the village boys and girls; And I think they thought me proud, I found so little to say And kept so from the crowd: But I had the longest curls, And I had the largest eyes, And my teeth were small like pearls; The girls might flout and scout me, But the boys would hang about me In sheepish mooning wise. Our one-street village stood A long mile from the town, A mile of windy down And bleak one-sided wood, With not a single house. Our town itself was small, With just the common shops, And throve in its small way. Our neighboring gentry reared The good old-fashioned crops, And made old-fashioned boasts Of what John Bull would do If Frenchman Frog appeared, And drank old-fashioned toasts, And made old-fashioned bows To my Lady at the Hall. My Lady at the Hall Is grander than they all: Hers is the oldest name In all the neighborhood; But the race must die with her Though she's a lofty dame, For she's unmarried still. Poor people say she's good And has an open hand As any in the land, And she's the comforter Of many sick and sad; My nurse once said to me That everything she had Came of my Lady's bounty: "Though she's greatest in the county She's humble to the poor, No beggar seeks her door But finds help presently. I pray both night and day For her, and you must pray: But she'll never feel distress If needy folk can bless." I was a little maid When here we came to live From somewhere by the sea. Men spoke a foreign tongue There where we used to be When I was merry and young, Too young to feel afraid; The fisher-folk would give A kind strange word to me, There by the foreign sea: I don't know where it was, But I remember still Our cottage on a hill, And fields of flowering grass On that fair foreign shore.