BARGAINING
There are many, many forests lying north, south, east, and west,
There are many, many rivers moving slowly to the sea,
But there's a wood of budding beech that claims the heart of me,
And there's a little singing beck that falls from heathered crest.
O! I would give the universe to own that singing stream,
And watch the stars a-hiding from the rosy-fingered morn,
While cuckoos wake the fellside, and daffodils are born—
O! any one can have the world, so I may keep my stream—
Yet would I barter beechen wood and little singing beck
If I could fold my arms once more around my sweetheart's neck.
NIDDERDALE.
SONG OF GOOD-BYE
The ship is speeding fast from out the bay,
Instead of thine, I feel a kiss of spray;
My face is lashed by salt winds from the sea,
My eyes are wet with parting now from thee.
O Husband Sweetheart! send to me a thought—
Some loving word, perchance my lips have taught!
The evening fades to purple, darkly blue,
The air is chill, a few white stars creep through
The steely buckler of the northern sky;
One lonely sound recurs—a sew-mew's cry.
O Husband Sweetheart! send thy heart to me
Across this tireless, surging, tossing sea!