Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/83

 And to its loneliness, once more go back! —Yet, as I turn away, and take my load, To go (not singing now) the dust-deep road, Surely a little richer is my store And yet my burden lighter than before? Music was mine! whereof some piecèd stave, Tho’ sad miswrit, yet in my hand I have; A word or two of Nature’s in mine ear, In my regard her blessed look more clear, Deep in my breast the love of her more dear! Ay, and to this delicious gratitude, This heartier grip on human brotherhood, If it may be, the surer sight of eyes A little less averted from life’s whole. (Quicker to spy out Beauty in disguise, Keener to note how lowliest lives may be Nests for the heavenward laverock, Poesy), The heart more warm, I hope the humbler soul To such delights farewell I need not say; These are my cottage-gifts, to take away!