Berrying

My love went berrying

Where brooks were merrying

And wild wings ferrying

Heaven's amethyst;

The wildflowers blessed her,

My dearest Hester,

The winds caressed her,

The sunbeams kissed.

I followed, carrying

Her basket; varying

Fond hopes of marrying

With hopes denied;

Both late and early

She deemed me surly,

And bowed her curly

Fair head and sighed:

“The skies look lowery;

It will he showery;

No longer flowery

The way I find.

No use in going.

‘ T will soon be snowing

If you keep growing

Much more unkind.”

Then looked up tearfully.

And I, all fearfully,

Replied, “My dear, fully

Will I explain:

I love you dearly,

But look not cheerly

Since all says clearly

I love in vain.”

Then smiled she airily;

And answered merrily

With words that — verily

Made me decide:

And drawing tow'rd her,

I there implored her —

I who adored her —

To be my bride.

O sweet simplicity

Of young rusticity,

Without duplicity,

Whom love made know,

That hearts in meter

Make earth completer;

And kisses, sweeter

Than — berries grow.