Page:The poems of George Eliot (Crowell, 1884).djvu/426

 That I should have my share, though he had more,

Because he was the elder and a boy.

The firmaments of daisies since to me

Have had those mornings in their opening eyes,

The bunched cowslip's pale transparency

Carries that sunshine of sweet memories,

And wild-rose branches take their finest scent

From those blest hours of infantine content.

III.

Our mother bade us keep the trodden ways,

Stroked down my tippet, set my brother's frill,

Then with the benediction of her gaze

Clung to us lessening, and pursued us still

Across the homestead to the rookery elms,

Whose tall old trunks had each a grassy mound,

So rich for us, we counted them as realms

With varied products: here were earth-nuts found,

And here the Lady-fingers in deep shade;

Here sloping toward the Moat the rushes grew,

The large to split for pith, the small to braid;

While over all the dark rooks cawing flew.

And made a happy strange solemnity,

A deep-toned chant from life unknown to me.

IV.

Our meadow-path had memorable spots:

One where it bridged a tiny rivulet,

Deep hid by tangled blue Forget-me-nots;

And all along the waving grasses met