Straight, but as lissome as a hazel wand; In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell 'Sweet Katie, once I did her a good turn, Her and her far-off cousin and betrothed, James Willows, of one name and heart with her. For here I came, twenty years back-the week Before I parted with poor Edmund; crost By that old bridge which, half in ruins then, Still makes a hoary eyebrow for the gleam Beyond it, where the waters marry-crost, Whistling a random bar of Bonny Doon, And push'd at Philip's garden-gate. The gate, Half-parted from a weak and scolding hinge, Stuck; and he clamour'd from a casement, "run To Katie somewhere in the walks below, "Run, Katie!" Katie never ran: she moved To meet me, winding under woodbine bowers, A little flutter'd, with her eyelids down, Fresh apple-blossom, blushing for a boon. 'What was it? less of sentiment than sense Had Katie; not illiterate; neither one 'She told me. She and James had quarrell'd. Why? What cause of quarrel ? None, she said, no cause; On garden gravel, let my query pass Unclaim'd, in flushing silence, till I ask'd If James were coming. "Coming every day," She answer'd, "ever longing to explain, But evermore her father came across With some long-winded tale, and broke him short; And James departed vext with him and her." How could I help her? wrong?' "Would I was it (Claspt hands and that petitionary grace Of sweet seventeen subdued me ere she spoke) "O would I take her father for one hour, For one half-hour, and let him talk to me!" And even while she spoke, I saw where James 'O Katie, what I suffer'd for your sake! For in I went, and call'd old Philip out To show the farm: full willingly he rose : He praised his land, his horses, his machines; He praised his ploughs, his cows, his hogs, his dogs; And naming those, his friends, for whom they were: Then crost the common into Darnley chase To show Sir Arthur's deer. In copse and fern Then, seated on a serpent-rooted beech, Of how the Squire had seen the colt at grass, To learn the price, and what the price he ask'd, And how the bailiff swore that he was mad, But he stood firm; and so the matter hung; He gave them line and five days after that : He met the bailiff at the Golden Fleece, Who then and there had offer'd something more, But he stood firm; and so the matter hung; He knew the man; the colt would fetch its price; He gave them line: and how by chance at last (It might be May or April, he forgot, He found the bailiff riding by the farm, Then, while I breathed in sight of haven, he, Poor fellow, could he help it? recommenced, And ran thro' all the coltish chronicle, |