How should she her choice determine, since she could not love them all?
Thus she spoke unto her mother, sitting in the evening’s glow,
In the shadow of the fish-nets,[948] which were drooping, row[949] on row,[950]
From their stakes; while to the westward[951] hung the sun so huge and red;
Tinged with flame the white-winged sea-birds,[952] drifting idly o’er her head.
“Sooth to say, thy words are canny,”[953] said the good-wife with a sigh,
Glancing seaward to conceal the merry twinkle in her eye;
“Yet ’tis right young maids should marry; childless age brings no maid boon.
Beauty lost, in vain they hanker, fretting idly for the moon.
“Therefore I will tell thee,[954] daughter, what ’tis wise for thee to do;