SERIOUS-minded little maid,
Wondering and half afraid,
Half inclined to speak with me,
Half disposed to let me be;
Hesitating yet, and shy,
Half a twinkle in your eye,
Half in doubt and half in fear,
Staying neither far nor near.
How I wonder what you see
With those eyes that question me;
What the instinct bids you know
If I may be friend or foe;
Fawnlike, full of grace and sweet,
Ready with fast-flying feet
In the orchard’s deepest shade
To find cover, little maid.
Grave and curious little lass,
Like a wild bird in the grass,
Still intently watching me,
With your wings half spread, to see
If my smile bodes good or ill,
Willing to make friends and still
Undecided if to stay
Here and near or fly away.
Serious-minded little maid,
When, with smiles and unafraid,
O’er the lawn you come to me,
Stranger to you though I be,
When your curious eyes have tried
Soul with mine and, satisfied,
Looked still into mine and smiled,
Blessed am I, little child.
Blessed am I to be just
Worthy of your childish trust,
More than conqueror of kings
When the wild bird of your wings
Bids you fly not forth but see
Something tender, kind, in me;
Oh, the gladness you have laid
At my heart’s gate, little maid!
IN VACATION TIME
THERE’S a hole in his hat with the hair sticking through,
And a toe that peeps out from a hole in his shoe;
There’s a patch in his trousers, a darn in his hose,
And a freckle that tilts on the bridge of his nose;
But oh, in his heart there’s the glimmer and shine
Of a sun that I wish could be shining in mine.
There’s a smudge on his face that is dusty and dark,
But a song in his heart like the song of a lark;
There’s a rent in his coat where the lining shows through,
But the whistle he tunes to the wild bird is true;
And, oh, in his heart, with a sparkle like wine,
Is a gladness I wish could be sparkling in mine.
There’s an imp in his hair that may keep it awry,
But a twinkle so rare in the blue of his eye;
There’s an uneven slant of his trousers, made fast
With a nail through their tops, for a button won’t last;
But deep in his heart lies a spring cool and fine
Of good cheer that I wish could be bubbling in mine.
There’s a tan on his cheek where the flush of health glows,
And the skin has all peeled from the tip of his nose;
His pockets are bulged with tops, marbles and strings,
With jack-knives and other uncountable things;
But the brooks and the woods bring a music divine
To his ears that I wish they were bringing to mine.