I.

I cannot choose but think upon the time 
When our two lives grew like two buds that kiss 
At lightest thrill from the bee's swinging chime, 
Because the one so near the other is. 

He was the elder and a little man 
Of forty inches, bound to show no dread, 
And I the girl that puppy-like now ran, 
Now lagged behind my brother's larger tread. 

I held him wise, and when he talked to me 
Of snakes and birds, and which God loved the best, 
I thought his knowledge marked the boundary 
Where men grew blind, though angels knew the rest. 

If he said 'Hush!' I tried to hold my breath; 
Wherever he said 'Come!' I stepped in faith. 

II. 

Long years have left their writing on my brow, 
But yet the freshness and the dew-fed beam 
Of those young mornings are about me now, 
When we two wandered toward the far-off stream 

With rod and line. Our basket held a store 
Baked for us only, and I thought with joy 
That I should have my share, though he had more, 
Because he was the elder and a boy. 

The firmaments of daisies since to me 
Have had those mornings in their opening eyes, 
The bunchèd cowslip's pale transparency 
Carries that sunshine of sweet memories, 

And wild-rose branches take their finest scent 
From those blest hours of infantine content. 

III. 

Our mother bade us keep the trodden ways, 
Stroked down my tippet, set my brother's frill, 
Then with the benediction of her gaze 
Clung to us lessening, and pursued us still 

Across the homestead to the rookery elms, 
Whose tall old trunks had each a grassy mound, 
So rich for us, we counted them as realms 
With varied products: here were earth-nuts found, 

And here the Lady-fingers in deep shade; 
Here sloping toward the Moat the rushes grew, 
The large to split for pith, the small to braid; 
While over all the dark rooks cawing flew, 

And made a happy strange solemnity, 
A deep-toned chant from life unknown to me. 

IV. 

Our meadow-path had memorable spots: 
One where it bridged a tiny rivulet, 
Deep hid by tangled blue Forget-me-nots; 
And all along the waving grasses met 

My little palm, or nodded to my cheek, 
When flowers with upturned faces gazing drew 
My wonder downward, seeming all to speak 
With eyes of souls that dumbly heard and knew. 

Then came the copse, where wild things rushed unseen, 
And black-scathed grass betrayed the past abode 
Of mystic gypsies, who still lurked between 
Me and each hidden distance of the road. 

A gypsy once had startled me at play, 
Blotting with her dark smile my sunny day. 

V. 

Thus rambling we were schooled in deepest lore, 
And learned the meanings that give words a soul, 
The fear, the love, the primal passionate store, 
Whose shaping impulses make manhood whole. 

Those hours were seed to all my after good; 
My infant gladness, through eye, ear, and touch, 
Took easily as warmth a various food 
To nourish the sweet skill of loving much. 

For who in age shall roam the earth and find 
Reasons for loving that will strike out love 
With sudden rod from the hard year-pressed mind? 
Were reasons sown as thick as stars above, 

'Tis love must see them, as the eye sees light: 
Day is but Number to the darkened sight. 

VI. 

Our brown canal was endless to my thought; 
And on its banks I sat in dreamy peace, 
Unknowing how the good I loved was wrought, 
Untroubled by the fear that it would cease. 

Slowly the barges floated into view 
Rounding a grassy hill to me sublime 
With some Unknown beyond it, whither flew 
The parting cuckoo toward a fresh spring time. 

The wide-arched bridge, the scented elder-flowers, 
The wondrous watery rings that died too soon, 
The echoes of the quarry, the still hours 
With white robe sweeping-on the shadeless noon, 

Were but my growing self, are part of me, 
My present Past, my root of piety. 

VII. 

Those long days measured by my little feet 
Had chronicles which yield me many a text; 
Where irony still finds an image meet 
Of full-grown judgments in this world perplext. 

One day my brother left me in high charge, 
To mind the rod, while he went seeking bait, 
And bade me, when I saw a nearing barge, 
Snatch out the line lest he should come too late. 

Proud of the task, I watched with all my might 
For one whole minute, till my eyes grew wide, 
Till sky and earth took on a strange new light 
And seemed a dream-world floating on some tide - 

A fair pavilioned boat for me alone 
Bearing me onward through the vast unknown. 

VIII. 

But sudden came the barge's pitch-black prow, 
Nearer and angrier came my brother's cry, 
And all my soul was quiver