Poems By the Way Part 34

A woman bare of breast and limb, Who turned a piteous face to him

E'en as she ran: for hard at heel Followed a man with brandished steel,

And yelling mouth. Then the swain stood One moment in the glimmering wood

Trembling, ashamed: Yet now grown wise Deemed all a snare for ears and eyes.

So onward swiftlier still he strode And cast all thought on his fair load.

And yet in but a little s.p.a.ce Back came the yelling shrieking chase,

And well-nigh gripped now by the man, Straight unto him the woman ran;

And underneath the gleaming steel E'en at his very feet did kneel.

She looked up; sobs were all her speech, Yet sorely did her face beseech.

While o'er her head the chaser stared, Shaking aloft the edges bared.

Doubted the swain, and a while did stand As she took his coat-lap in her hand.

Upon his hand he felt her breath Hot with the dread of present death.

Sleek was her arm on his scarlet coat, The sobbing pa.s.sion rose in his throat.

But e'en therewith he looked aside And saw the face of the sleeping bride.

Then he tore his coat from the woman's hand, And never a moment there did stand.

But swiftly thence away he strode Along the dusky forest road.

And there rose behind him laughter shrill, And then was the windless wood all still,

He looked around o'er all the place, But saw no image of the chase.

And as he looked the night-mirk now O'er all the tangled wood 'gan flow.

Then stirred the sweetling that he bore, And she slid adown from his arms once more.

Nought might he see her well-loved face; But he felt her lips in the mirky place.

"'Tis night," she said, "and the false day's gone, And we twain in the wild-wood all alone.

Night o'er the earth; so rest we here Until to-morrow's sun is clear.

For overcome is every foe And home to-morrow shall we go."

So 'neath the trees they lay, those twain, And to them the darksome night was gain.

But when the morrow's dawn was grey They woke and kissed whereas they lay.

And when on their feet they came to stand Swain Goldilocks stretched out his hand.

And he spake: "O love, my love indeed, Where now is gone thy goodly weed?

For again thy naked feet I see, And thy sweet sleek arms so kind to me.

Through thy rent kirtle once again Thy s.h.i.+ning shoulder showeth plain."

She blushed as red as the sun-sweet rose: "My garments gay were e'en of those

That the false Queen dight to slay my heart; And sore indeed was their fleshly smart.

Yet must I bear them, well-beloved, Until thy truth and troth was proved.

And this tattered coat is now for a sign That thou hast won me to be thine.

Now wilt thou lead along thy maid To meet thy kindred unafraid."

As stoops the falcon on the dove He cast himself about her love.

He kissed her over, cheek and chin, He kissed the sweetness of her skin.

Then hand in hand they went their way Till the wood grew light with the outer day.

At last behind them lies the wood, And before are the Upland Acres good.

On the hill's brow awhile they stay At midmorn of the merry day.

He sheareth a deal from his kirtle meet, To make her sandals for her feet.

He windeth a wreath of the beechen tree, Lest men her s.h.i.+ning shoulders see.

And a wreath of woodbine sweet, to hide The rended raiment of her side;

And a crown of poppies red as wine, Lest on her head the hot sun s.h.i.+ne.

She kissed her love withal and smiled: "Lead forth, O love, the Woodland Child!

Most meet and right meseems it now That I am clad with the woodland bough.

For betwixt the oak-tree and the thorn Meseemeth erewhile was I born.

And if my mother aught I knew It was of the woodland folk she grew.

And O that thou art well at ease To wed the daughter of the trees!"

Now Goldilocks and Goldilocks Go down amidst the wheaten shocks,