Page:The poems of George Eliot (Crowell, 1884).djvu/342

312 .

Not so at all, dear lady. I had naught,

Was a poor orphan; but I came to tend

Here in this house, an old afflicted pair,

Who wore out slowly; and the last who died,

Full thirty years ago, left me this roof

And all the household stuff. It was great wealth,

And so I had a home for Kate and Nell.

But how, then, have you earned your daily bread

These thirty years?

.

Oh, that is easy earning.

We help the neighbors, and our bit and sup

Is never failing: they have work for us

In house and field, all sorts of odds and ends,

Patching and mending, turning o'er the hay,

Holding sick children—there is always work;

And they are very good—the neighbors are:

Weigh not our bits of work with weight and scale,

But glad themselves with giving us good shares

Of meat and drink; and in the big farmhouse

When cloth comes home from weaving, the good wife

Cuts me a piece—this very gown—and says:

"Here, Agatha, you old maid, you have time

To pray for Hans who is gone soldiering:

The saints might help him, and they have much to do,

'T were well they were besought to think of him."

She spoke half jesting, but I pray, I pray

For poor young Hans. I take it much to heart

That other people are worse off than I—

I ease my soul with praying for them all.