Classic Poem

I SAT with Doris, the shepherd maiden;
— Her crook was laden with wreathed flowers.
I sat and wooed her through sunlight wheeling,
— And shadows stealing for hours and hours.

And she, my Doris, whose lap incloses
— Wild summer roses of faint perfume,
The while I sued her, kept hushed and harkened
— Till shades had darkened from gloss to gloom.

She touched my shoulder with fearful finger;
— She said, " We linger, we must not stay;
My flock's in danger, my sheep will wander;
— Behold them yonder, how far they stray! "

I answered bolder, " Nay, let me hear you,
— And still be near you, and still adore!
No wolf nor stranger will touch one yearling —
— Ah! stay my darling a moment more! "

She whispered, sighing, " There will be sorrow
— Beyond to-morrow, if I lose to-day;
My fold unguarded, my flock unfolded —
— I shall be scolded and sent away! "

Said I, denying, " If they do miss you,
— They ought to kiss you when you get home;
And well rewarded by friend and neighbor
— Should be the labor from which you come. "

" They might remember, " she answered meekly,
— " That lambs are weakly and sheep are wild;
But if they love me it's none so fervent —
— I am a servant and not a child. "

Then each hot ember glowed quick within me,
— And love did win me to swift reply:
" Ah! do but prove me, and none shall bind you,
— Nor fray nor find you until I die! "

She blushed and started, and stood awaiting,
— As if debating in dreams divine;
But I did brave them — I told her plainly,
— She doubted vainly, she must be mine.

So we, twin-hearted, from all the valley
— Did rouse and rally her nibbling ewes;
And homeward drove them, we two together,
— Through blooming heather and gleaming dews.

That simple duty such grace did lend her,
— My Doris tender, my Doris true,
That I her warder did always bless her,
— And often press her to take her due.

And now in beauty she fills my dwelling
— With love excelling, and undefiled;
And love doth guard her, both fast and fervent,
— No more a servant, nor yet a child.