In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his rein;
And, gazing down with timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.
Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;
The weary wheel to a spinnit turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned;
And for him who sat by the chimney lug.
Dozing and grumbling o’er pipe and mug,