Night and day thou art safe,—our cottage is hard by.
Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain?
Sleep,—and at break of day I will come to thee again!”
As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet,
This song unto myself did I oftentimes repeat;
And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,
That but half of it was hers, and one-half of it was mine.
Again, and once again, did I repeat the song;
“Nay,” said I, “more than half to the damsel must belong;
For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone,