The Verse-Book of a Homely Woman

At the Cross Roads

     There I halted. Further down the
          hollow
     Stood the township, where my errand lay.
     Firm my purpose, till a voice cried
          (Follow!
     Come this way—I tell you—come this
          way!)

     Silence, Thrush! You know I think of
          buying
     A Spring-tide hat; my frock is worn and
          old.
     So to the shops I go. What's that you're
          crying?
     (Here! Come here! And gather primrose
          gold.)
     Well, yes. Some day I will; but time is
          going.
     I haste to purchase silks and satins fair.
     I'm all in rags. (The Lady's Smock is
          showing
     Up yonder, in the little coppice there.)

     And wood anemones spread out their
          laces;
     Each celandine has donned a silken gown;
     The violets are lifting shy sweet faces.
     (And there's a chiff-chaff, soft, and slim, and
          brown.)

     But what about my hat? (The bees are
          humming.)
     And my new frock? (The hawthorn's
          budding free!
     Sweet! Oh, so sweet!) Well, have your
          way. I'm coming!
     And who's to blame for that? (Why, me!
          Me! Me!)