Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/76



TORK, I am justly wroth,

For thou hast wronged me sore;

The ash roof-tree that shelters thee

Shall shelter thee no more!

Full fifty years I've dwelt

Upon this honest tree,

And long ago (as people know!)

I brought thy father thee.

What hail hath chilled thy heart,

That thou shouldst bid me go?

Speak out, I pray—then I'll away,

Since thou commandest so.

Thou tellest of the time

When, wheeling from the west,

This hut thou sought'st and one thou brought'st