The Cornflower, and Other Poems Part 12

_"Gin a body meet a body Comin' through the rye, Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body cry?"_

Janet's lips were reid and ripe, Full o' sic delichts; Longing for them spoiled the pipe Sandy smoked o' nichts.

Janet laughed when he would sigh, Janet wasna kin'.

Spite o' a' as days went by Janet filled his min'.

When in kirk he sat and heard Sermons deep and lang, Every fluttering bird ootside Seemed piping Janet's sang.

Through the psalm, and through the prayer, Thought went wanderin' wide-- O what were toil, what were care, Wi' Janet by his side?

Janet, wi' the waist sae sma', Janet, dear indeed; Sermon, psalm, and prayer, and a', Sandy didna heed--

Going hame at sober pace Made confession--sae: "Hearken, Lord! hide no Thy face Though I go astray.

"Help me juist tae do my pairt-- Win her if I can-- Sae I plead wi' a' my hairt, Help a sinfu' mon!"

Surely faith was in that prayer.

Ere an hour went by Janet cam' wi' lichtsome air Through the fields o' rye.

Sandy, tak' ye hairt o' grace-- Surely 'tisna wrang-- Here's the la.s.s wi' saucy face, How runs Janet's sang?

_"Gin a body meet a body Comin' through the rye, Gin a body kiss a body Need a body cry?"_

THE LAD FROM INVERNESS.

He would go, they could not keep him, for he came of fighting stock; Though his widowed mother pleaded, he was firm as any rock.

Well he loved the patient woman who had nursed him on her breast, Been quite blind to all his follies,--but he loved his country best.

"I'll come home again," he told her; "I'll come home again some day,"

Laid his face to her's and kissed her, said good-bye and marched away.

Stronger than the voice that pleaded, "Laddie, laddie, bide at home,"

Was the shrill voice of the bugle and the deep voice of the drum, Calling to him all the day, calling to him in his dreams: "Come, lad! Come, lad! Come! Come! Come!"

His face was like a maiden's face, so smooth it was, and fair; The laughter in his eyes of gray, the suns.h.i.+ne in his hair; But a man's heart, true and gallant, beat beneath the tartan plaid, And a strong right arm he boasted, did this bonnie Highland lad.

Oh, the battlefield is gruesome, with its dying and its dead, But 'twas to the field of battle that the drum and bugle led-- Magersfontein--and the bullets biting fiercely left and right, And the lad in kilt and hose there in the thickest of the fight.

Fearful odds, and none to help them, fight they boldly, undismayed, Gallant clansmen of the north land! Brave old Highlander brigade!

Someone blundered, this we know, When you met the ambushed foe, But you fought as heroes fight, and died as heroes die; This we know, this we know.

Where the fighting had been fiercest, as the sun sank in the west, Did they find the widow's laddie, with a bullet in his breast, And his smiling face turned upward. Did he dream at last--who knows-- Of the far-off hills of Scotland? Lying there in kilt and hose, With the gold hair gleaming brightly underneath the bonnet blue, And the tartan plaid laid gently o'er the heart so brave and true.

Stilled forever! With death's coming did there fall upon his ear Music that he loved to list to, bugle call so high and clear, Thrilling, stirring, sweeter, shriller, and the deep voice of the drum, Calling to him through the shadows, calling softly through the shadows, "Come, lad! Come, lad! Come! Come! Come!"

ALL ON AN APRIL MORNING.

The teacher was wise and learned, I wis, All nonsense she held in scorning, But you never can tell what the primmest miss Will do of a bright spring morning.

What this one did was to spread a snare For feet of a youth unheeding, As March, with a meek and lamb-like air, To its very last hour was speeding.

Oh, he was the dullard of his cla.s.s, For how can a youth get learning With his eyes aye fixed on a pretty la.s.s And his heart aye filled with yearning?

"Who finds 'mong the rushes which fringe a pool,"

She told him, "the first wind blossom, May wish what he will"--poor April fool, With but one wish in his bosom.

Her gray eyes danced--on a wild-goose chase He'd sally forth on the morrow, And, later, she'd laugh in his sombre face, And jest at his words of sorrow.

But penitence and a troubled mind Were fruits of the night's reflection; After all, he was simple, and strong, and kind-- 'Twas wrong to flout his affection.

They met on the hill as she walked to school; He said, unheeding her blushes, "Here's the early flower your April fool Found growing among the rushes.

"Take it or leave it as you will"-- His voice ringing out so clearly Awoke in her heart a happy thrill-- "You know that I love you dearly."

Day-dreams indulged as she taught the school Held lovers kneeling and suing; "Take it or leave it"--her April fool Was masterful in his wooing.

He gave her the flower--she gave him a kiss-- His suit she had long been scorning; But you never can tell what the primmest miss Will do of a bright spring morning.

BILLY.

O! He was the boy of the house, you know, A jolly and rollicking lad; He never was sick, he never was tired, And nothing could make him sad.

If he started to play at sunrise, Not a rest would he take at noon; No day was so long from beginning to end, But his bed-time came too soon.

Did someone urge that he make less noise, He would say, with a saucy grin: "Why, one boy alone doesn't make much stir-- O sakes! I wish I was a twin.

"There's two of twins, and it must be fun To go double at everything; To holler by twos, and whistle by twos, To stamp by twos, and to sing!"

His laugh was something to make you glad, So brimful was it of joy; A conscience he had, perhaps, in his breast, But it never troubled the boy.

You met him out on the garden path, The terrier at his heels, And knew by the shout he hailed you with How happy a youngster feels.

The maiden auntie was half distraught With his tricks as the days went by; "The most mischievous child in all the world!"

She said with a shrug and a sigh.

His father owned that her words were true, His mother declared each day He was putting wrinkles into her face, And turning her brown hair gray.

His grown-up sister referred to him As "a trouble," "a trial," "a grief"; The way he ignored all rules, she said, Was something beyond belief!

It never troubled the boy of the house, He revelled in racket and din, Had only one regret in the world-- He hadn't been born a twin!