Shepherd. Dost weep?
Girl. Yes, shepherd.
Shepherd. Fie, now; comfort thee!
The gods wax angry at a lass’s tears
Who has no whit to cry for. Thus say I,
Those there are who ev’n by living darken
The lives of such as are less passionate
Yet in their fall, by ev’n the full measure
That they o’ertopped us, must we mourn for them,
Such wonder has Life bared.
Girl. Maybe ’tis so;
Still I am sorry.
Shepherd. Yield thee now thine arm.
So: round my neck as mine sinks now round thine....
Evening falls. Hear the brook in the spinney:
Thy very voice.
Girl. And ... is yon star Venus?
Shepherd. Aye: Venus ’tis. Thou hast eyes like heaven.
Girl. Love is a pretty thing. Kiss me, sweet shepherd.
L. RICE-OXLEY
(KEBLE)