Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/67

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A farmer-lad, awkward and silent, I seem only this&mdash;nothing more&mdash; Since a beautiful woman went yonder, Away by the blue mountain-door.

She seemed not to scorn my endeavor To ward from her roughness and harm; The tremulous, soft little fingers Have tightened in trust on my arm.

The lilies I gathered through peril She wore on her brow and her breast; She, tiptoeing, leaned on my shoulder To peer in the robin s new nest.

Whilst I, in my sober-hued fustian, Wrapped soft foolish fancies and fears, Or dreamed of a love-lighted cottage To crown the devotion of years.

"A friend evermore," so it ended; I count for "one more" on your list Of the falcons that pull at the tether Enwrapping your slender white wrist.

Ah, more than yourself goeth yonder&mdash; Than the dream of a sweet summer lost&mdash; Than the heart of a farmer-lad over The edge of that summer-time tossed.

You take the boy s trust in fair woman (Save his mother, God bless her for aye!); 6