VI. Behold her then, a type of all that’s good, Honest in poverty, in suffering kind; And large must be that love which strains for food, Through wind and rain, through frost and snows that blind, For a sick burden that is left behind; Call her but common; God’s commonest things are little understood, Poor Apple Woman!
VII. Two April weeks I missed her, only two, Missed her upon the sidewalk, everywhere, And when again she chanced to cross my view, The marble smile was changed, it still was there, But darkly veined, an emblem of despair; A God-knit union Grim death had struck, whose dark shock shivered through The Apple Woman.
VIII. A widow now, she tells the bitter tale, Tells how she sat within their little room In yon dark alley, till she saw him fail, Sat all alone through night’s oppressive gloom, Sat by her Joe, as in a desert tomb, No candle to illumine His cold dead face! God only heard her wail.— Poor Apple Woman.
IX. Now, when you meet her of the basket-store, Her of the little cloak and bonnet bare, Reach forth a friendly hand, and something more, When your portmonnaie has a coin to spare. Dear are the hopes that mitigate thy care, Dear the unbought communion Whose tall vine reaches to the golden shore.— Poor Apple Woman!
ON MOUNT ROYAL.
I. They sat in the woods together, On the mountain’s tranquil height, And spoke of the Autumn weather, Of the purplish-golden light That played on the distant river, And robed the mountains afar In a robe more rich than ever Was worn by Caliph or Czar.
II. The wine of the beauty around them They drank till the sun hung low, Till the scene like a spell had bound them; For the forest was all aglow With the countless tints that follow Spent Summer’s retiring tread, When freely on height and hollow All beautiful colours are shed.
III. All hues that the rainbow showeth, All opulent dyes that flush The western sky when goeth The Lord of Day, and the blush Of river and lake and ocean Betrays that his last caress Their life-blood keeps in motion Till he cometh again to bless.