It is a mile and more to Plaister’s End, But Jimmy ran the short way by the stream, And there was Anna’s cottage at the bend, With blue smoke on the chimney, faint as steam. ’God, she’s at home,’ and up his heart a gleam Leapt like a rocket on November nights, And shattered slowly in a burst of lights. Anna was singing at her kitchen fire, She was surprised, and not well pleased to see A sweating navvy, red with heat and mire, Come to her door, whoever he might be. But when she saw that it was Jimmy, she Smiled at his eyes upon her, full of pain, And thought, ’But, still, he mustn’t come again. People will talk; boys are such crazy things; But he’s a dear boy though he is so green.’ So, hurriedly, she slipped her apron strings, And dabbed her hair, and wiped her fingers clean, And came to greet him languid as a queen, Looking as sweet, as fair, as pure, as sad, As when she drove her loving husband mad. ’Poor boy,’ she said, ’Poor boy, how hot you are.’ She laid a cool hand to his sweating face. ’How kind to come. Have you been running far? I’m just going out; come up the road a pace. O dear, these hens; they’re all about the place.’ So Jimmy shooed the hens at her command, And got outside the gate as she had planned. ’Anna, my dear, I love you; love you, true; I had to come--I don’t know--I can’t rest-- I lay awake all night, thinking of you. Many must love you, but I love you best.’ ’Many have loved me, yes, dear,’ she confessed, She smiled upon him with a tender pride, ’But my love ended when my husband died. Still, we’ll be friends, dear friends, dear, tender friends; Love with its fever’s at an end for me. Be by me gently now the fever ends, Life is a lovelier thing than lovers see, I’d like to trust a man, Jimmy,’ said she, ’May I trust you?’ ’Oh, Anna dear, my dear---- ’Don’t come so close,’ she said, ’with people near. Dear, don’t be vexed; it’s very sweet to find One who will understand; but life is life, And those who do not know are so unkind. But you’ll be by me, Jimmy, in the strife, I love you though I cannot be your wife; And now be off, before the whistle goes, Or else you’ll lose your quarter, goodness knows.’ ’When can I see you, Anna? Tell me, dear. To-night? To-morrow? Shall I come to-night? ’Jimmy, my friend, I cannot have you here; But when I come to town perhaps we might. Dear, you must go; no kissing; you can write, And I’ll arrange a meeting when I learn What friends are doing’ (meaning Shepherd Ern). ’Good-bye, my own.’ ’Dear Jim, you understand. If we were only free, dear, free to meet, Dear, I would take you by your big, strong hand And kiss your dear boy eyes so blue and sweet; But my dead husband lies under the sheet, Dead in my heart, dear, lovely, lonely one, So, Jim, my dear, my loving days are done.