Morning, evening, over and o’er!
The swallow returns to the nested rafter,
But Marjory comes no more.
The gray barn-doors in the long wind rattle
Hour by hour of the long white day.
The horses fret by the well-filled manger
Since Marjory went away.
The sheep she fed at the bars await her.
The milch cows low for her down the lane.
They long for her light, light hand at the milking,—