Past Thoughts stated.
"And as I drove my plough along,
And felt the strength that's in my arm,
Ten years, thought I, amidst my song,
I've been head-man at Harewood farm.
"And now, my own dear Mary's free,
Whom I have lov'd this many a day,
Who knows but she may think on me?
I'll go hear what she has to say.
"Perhaps that little stock of land
She holds, but knows not how to till,
Will suffer in the widow's hand,
And make poor Mary poorer still
The Avowal.
"That scrap of land, with one like her,
How we might live! and be so blest!
And who should Mary Jones prefer?
Why, surely, him who loves her best!
"Therefore I'm come to-night, sweet wench,
I would not idly thus intrude,"—
Mary look'd downward on the bench,
O'erpower'd by love and gratitude.
And lean'd her head against the vine,
With quick'ning sobs of silent bliss,
Till Abner cried, "You must be mine,
You must,"—and seal'd it with a kiss.
The Interest of an old Horse asserted.
She talk'd of shame, and wip'd her check,
But what had shame with them to do,
Who nothing meant but truth to speak,
And downright honour to pursue?