Part 1 — ON THE MOOR
Reading edition
I I met a child upon the moor A-wading down the heather; She put her hand into my own, We crossed the fields together.
I led her to her father's door— A cottage midst the clover. I left her—and the world grew poor To me, a childless rover.
II I met a maid upon the moor, The morrow was her wedding. Love lit her eyes with lovelier hues Than the eve-star was shedding.
She looked a sweet good-bye to me, And o'er the stile went singing. Down all the lonely night I heard But bridal bells a-ringing.
III I met a mother on the moor, By a new grave a-praying. The happy swallows in the blue Upon the winds were playing.
"Would I were in his grave," I said, "And he beside her standing!" There was no heart to break if death For me had made demanding.
Cale Young Rice [1872-