SPRING-TIME: in the evening shade I was strolling through the vale— All at once before me strayed Gentle sounds across the dale. I drew nearer; all serene Two were sitting hand in hand— Maidens as by day are seen Working in the furrowed land. And their faces both were brown From the kissing sunbeams' glow; Underneath each ragged gown Bare a sun-burnt foot would show. But they sang, their heads held high, Songs that from their bosoms sprang To the stars that lit the sky, Sang, and knew not how they sang. Thus they sang the old, old lays All of love, its joy and pain, Heedless, seeking no one's praise,— Through the wide and lonely plain. |