Yet for that very reason think how much I loved
doing it! I am jealous of those days before I knew you, and want to have
all their wild-honey flavor for myself. Do remember more, and tell me!
Dearest heart, it was to me you were coming through all your scampers
and ramblings; no wonder, with that unknown good running parallel, that
my childhood was a happy one. May long life bless you, Beloved!
(_Inclosure._)
My brother and I were down in Wales,
And listened by night to the Welshman's tales;
He was eleven and I was ten.
We sat on the knees of the farmer's men
After the whole day's work was done:
And I was friends with the farmer's son.
His hands were rough as his arms were strong,
His mouth was merry and loud for song;
Each night when set by the ingle-wall
He was the merriest man of them all.
I would catch at his beard and say
All the things I had done in the day--
Tumbled bowlders over the force,
Swum in the river and fired the gorse--
"Half the side of the hill!" quoth I:--
"Ah!" cried he, "and didn't you die?"
"Chut!" said he, "but the squeak was narrow!
Didn't you meet with Johnnie Kigarrow?"
"No!" said I, "and who will he be?
And what will be Johnnie Kigarrow to me?"
The farmer's son said under his breath,
"Johnnie Kigarrow may be your death
Listen you here, and keep you still--
Johnnie Kigarrow bides under the hill;
Twloch barrow stands over his head;
He shallows the river to make his bed;
Bowlders roll when he stirs a limb;
And the gorse on the hills belongs to him!
And if so be one fires his gorse,
He's out of his bed, and he mounts his horse.
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