"There I should have a chance; this land’s too old." Old Occleve grunted at the young man’s mood; Keir, who was losing money, thought him bold, And thought the scheme for emigration good. He said that, if he wished to go, he should. South to the pampas, there to learn the trade. Old Occleve thought it mad, but no objection made. So it was settled that the lad should start, A place was found for him, a berth was taken; And Michael’s beauty plucked at Mary’s heart, And now the fabric of their lives was shaken: For now the hour’s nearness made love waken In Michael’s heart for Mary. Now Time’s guile Granted her passionate prayer, nor let her see his smile. Granted his greatest gifts; a night time came When the two walking down the water learned That life till then had only been a name; Love had unsealed their spirits: they discerned. Mutely, at moth time there, their spirits yearned. "I shall be gone three years, dear soul," he said. "Dear, will you wait for me?" "I will," replied the maid. So troth was pledged between them. Keir received Michael as Mary’s suitor, feeling sure That the lad’s fortunes would be soon retrieved, Having a woman’s promise as a lure. The three years’ wait would teach them to endure. He bade them love and prosper and be glad. And fast the day drew near that was to take the lad. Cowslips had come along the bubbling brook, Cowslips and oxlips rare, and in the wood The many-blossomed stalks of bluebells shook; The outward beauty fed their mental mood. Thought of the parting stabbed her as he wooed, Walking the brook with her, and day by day, The precious fortnight’s grace dropped, wasted, slipped away. Till only one clear day remained to her: One whole clear, precious day, before he sailed. Some forty hours, no more, to minister To months of bleakness before which she quailed. Mist rose along the brook; the corncrake railed; Dim red the sunset burned. He bade her come Into the wood with him; they went, the night came dumb. Still as high June, the very water’s noise Seemed but a breathing of the earth; the flowers Stood in the dim like souls without a voice. The wood’s conspiracy of occult powers Drew all about them, and for hours on hours No murmur shook the oaks, the stars did house Their lights like lamps upon those never-moving boughs. Under their feet the woodland sloped away Down to the valley, where the farmhouse lights Were sparks in the expanse the moon made grey. June’s very breast was bare this night of nights. Moths blundered up against them, greys and whites Moved on the darkness where the moths were out, Nosing for sticky sweet with trembling uncurled snout. But all this beauty was but music played, While the high pageant of their hearts prepared. A spirit thrilled between them, man to maid, Mind flowed in mind, the inner heart was bared, They needed not to tell how much each cared; All the soul’s strength was at the other’s soul. Flesh was away awhile, a glory made them whole.