_Up one wall and down the other—past each window-pane—_ _Prance the gusts_, _and then away down Crimmercrock’s long lane_. “I—I—don’t know what to say to’t, since your wife I’ve vowed to be; And as ’tis done, I s’pose here I must bide—poor me! Aye—as you are ki-ki-kind, I’ll try to live along with ’ee, Although I’d fain have stayed at home with dear daddee!” _Gruffly growled the wind on Toller Down_, _so bleak and bare_, _And lonesome was the house and dark_; _and few came there_. “That’s right, my Heart! And though on haunted Toller Down we be, And the wind swears things in chimley, we’ll to supper merrily! So don’t ye tap your shoe so pettish-like; but smile at me, And ye’ll soon forget to sock and sigh for dear daddee!” _December_ 1901. PIECES OCCASIONAL AND VARIOUS A CHURCH ROMANCE (MELLSTOCK _circa_ 1835) SHE turned in the high pew, until her sight Swept the west gallery, and caught its row Of music-men with viol, book, and bow Against the sinking sad tower-window light. She turned again; and in her pride’s despite One strenuous viol’s inspirer seemed to throw A message from his string to her below, Which said: “I claim thee as my own forthright!” Thus their hearts’ bond began, in due time signed. And long years thence, when Age had scared Romance, At some old attitude of his or glance That gallery-scene would break upon her mind, With him as minstrel, ardent, young, and trim, Bowing “New Sabbath” or “Mount Ephraim.” THE RASH BRIDE AN EXPERIENCE OF THE MELLSTOCK QUIRE I WE Christmas-carolled down the Vale, and up the Vale, and round the Vale, We played and sang that night as we were yearly wont to do— A carol in a minor key, a carol in the major D, Then at each house: “Good wishes: many Christmas joys to you!” II Next, to the widow’s John and I and all the rest drew on. And I Discerned that John could hardly hold the tongue of him for joy. The widow was a sweet young thing whom John was bent on marrying, And quiring at her casement seemed romantic to the boy. III “She’ll make reply, I trust,” said he, “to our salute? She must!” said he, “And then I will accost her gently—much to her surprise!— For knowing not I am with you here, when I speak up and call her dear A tenderness will fill her voice, a bashfulness her eyes. IV So, by her window-square we stood; ay, with our lanterns there we stood, And he along with us,—not singing, waiting for a sign; And when we’d quired her carols three a light was lit and out looked she, A shawl about her bedgown, and her colour red as wine. V