Ne’er hath it been my lot to meet.
“And her modest answer and graceful air,
Show her wise and good as she is fair.
“Would she were mine, and I to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay.
“No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
And weary lawyers with endless tongues,
“But low of cattle and song of birds,
And health of quiet and loving words.”
But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,