’I thought he bit,’ said Ern, and Anna smiled, And Jimmy saw the smile and watched her face While all the jealous devils made him wild; A third in love is always out of place; And then her gentle body full of grace Leaned to him sweetly as she tossed her head, ’Perhaps we two’ll be getting on,’ she said. They walked, but Jimmy turned to watch the third. ’I’m here, not you,’ he said; the shepherd grinned: Anna was smiling sweet without a word; She got the scarlet berry branch unpinned. ’It’s cold,’ she said, ’this evening, in the wind.’ A quick glance showed that Jimmy didn’t mind her, She beckoned with the berry branch behind her, Then dropped it gently on the broken stones, Preoccupied, unheeding, walking straight, Saying ’You jealous boy,’ in even tones, Looking so beautiful, so delicate, Being so very sweet: but at her gate She felt her shoe unlaced and looked to know If Ern had taken up the sprig or no. He had, she smiled. ’Anna,’ said Jimmy sadly, ’That man’s not fit to be a friend of yourn, He’s nobbut just an oaf; I love you madly, And hearing you speak kind to’m made me burn. Who is he then?’ She answered ’Shepherd Ern, A pleasant man, an old, old friend of mine.’ ’By cripes, then, Anna, drop him, he’s a swine.’ ’Jimmy,’ she said, ’you must have faith in me, Faith’s all the battle in a love like ours. You must believe, my darling, don’t you see That life to have its sweets must have its sours. Love isn’t always two souls picking flowers. You must have faith. I give you all I can. What, can’t I say "Good evening" to a man?’ ’Yes,’ he replied, ’But not a man like him.’ ’Why not a man like him?’ she said, ’What next?’ By this they’d reached her cottage in the dim, Among the daisies that the cold had kexed. ’Because I say. Now, Anna, don’t be vexed.’ ’I’m more than vexed,’ she said, ’with words like these. "You say," indeed. How dare you. Leave me, please.’ ’Anna, my Anna.’ ’Leave me.’ She was cold, Proud and imperious with a lifting lip, Blazing within, but outwardly controlled; He had a colt’s first instant of the whip. The long lash curled to cut a second strip. ’You to presume to teach. Of course, I know You’re mother’s Sunday scholar, aren’t you? Go.’ She slammed the door behind her, clutching skirts. ’Anna.’ He heard her bedroom latches thud. He learned at last how bitterly love hurts; He longed to cut her throat and see her blood, To stamp her blinking eyeballs into mud. ’Anna, by God!’ Love’s many torments make That tune soon change to ’Dear, for Jesus’ sake.’ He beat the door for her. She never stirred, But primming bitter lips before her glass; Admired her hat as though she hadn’t heard, And tried her front hair parted, and in mass. She heard her lover’s hasty footsteps pass. ’He’s gone,’ she thought. She crouched below the pane, And heard him cursing as he tramped the lane.