Wild Flowers | Page 3

but truth to speak,
And downright
honour to pursue?

His eloquence improv'd apace,
As manly pity fill'd his mind;
"You
know poor Bayard; here's the case,--
He's past his labour, old, and
blind:
"If you and I should but agree
To settle here for good and all,
Could
you give all your heart to me,
And grudge that poor old rogue a stall?
His Character.
"I'll buy him, for the dogs shall never
Set tooth upon a friend so true;

He'll not live long, but I for ever
Shall know I gave the beast his
due.
"'Mongst all I've known of plows and carts,
And ever since I learn'd
to drive,
He was not match'd in all these parts;
There was not such a
horse alive!
"Ready, as birds to meet the morn,
Were all his efforts at the plough;

Then, the mill-brook with hay or corn,
Good creature! how he'd
spatter through!
Character continued.
"He was a horse of mighty pow'r,
Compact in frame, and strong of
limb;
Went with a chirp from hour to hour;
Whip-cord! 'twas never
made for him.
"I left him in the shafts behind,
His fellows all unhook'd and gone,

He neigh'd, and deem'd the thing unkind.
Then, starting, drew the
load alone!
"But I might talk till pitch-dark night,
And then have something left
to say;
But, Mary, am I wrong or right,
Or, do I throw my words
away?
Something like Consent.

"Leave me, or take me and my horse;
I've told thee truth, and all I
know:
Truth should breed truth; that comes of course;
If I sow
wheat, why wheat will grow."
"Yes, Abner, but thus soon to yield,
Neighbours would fleer, and look
behind 'em;
Though, with a husband in the field,
Perhaps, indeed, I
should not mind 'em.
"I've known your generous nature well,
My first denial cost me dear;

How this may end we cannot tell,
But, as for Bayard, bring him
here."
Parting of the Lovers.--Sad News.
"Bless thee for that," the plowman cried,
At once both starting from
the seat,
He stood a guardian by her side,
But talk'd of home,--'twas
growing late.
Then step for step within his arm,
She cheer'd him down the dewy
way;
And no two birds upon the farm
E'er prated with more joy
than they.
What news at home? The smile he wore
One little sentence turn'd to
sorrow;
An order met him at the door.
"Take Bayard to the dogs
to-morrow."
The Journey renewed.
Yes, yes, thought he; and heav'd a sigh,
Die when he will he's not
your debtor:
I must obey, and he must die,--
That's if I can't
contrive it better.
He left his Mary late at night,
And had succeeded in the main,
No
sooner peep'd the morning light
But he was on the road again!
Suppose she should refuse her hand?
Such thoughts will come, I

know not why;
Shall I, without a wife or land,
Want an old horse?
then wherefore buy?
Perplexity
From bush to bush, from stile to stile,
Perplex'd he trod the fallow
ground,
And told his money all the while
And weigh'd the matter
round and round.
"I'll borrow," that's the best thought yet;
Mary shall save the horse's
life.--
Kind-hearted wench! what, run in debt
Before I know she'll
be my wife?
These women wo'nt speak plain and free.--
Well, well, I'll keep my
service still;
She has not said she'd marry me,
But yet I dare to say
she will.
A fresh Thought--Turns back.
But while I take this shay brain'd course,
And like a fool run to and
fro,
Master, perhaps, may sell the horse!
Therefore this instant
home I'll go.
The nightly rains had drench'd the grove,
He plung'd right on with
headlong pace;
A man but half as much in love
Perhaps had found a
cleaner place.
The day rose fair; with team a-field,
He watch'd the farmer's cheerful
brow;
And in a lucky hour reveal'd
His secret at his post, the
plough.
Coming to the Point--Generosity
And there without a whine began,
"Master, you'll give me your
advice;
I'm going to marry--if I can--
And want old Bayard; what's
his price!

"For Mary Jones last night agreed,
Or near upon't, to be my wife:

The horse's value I don't heed,
I only want to save his life."
"Buy him, hey! Abner! trust me I
Have not the thought of gain in
view;
Bayard's best days we've seen go by;
He shall be cheap
enough to you."
Symptoms of good Feelings.
The wages paid, the horse brought out,
The hour of separation come;

The farmer turn'd his chair about,
"Good fellow, take him, take him
home.
"You're welcome, Abner, to the beast,
For you're a faithful servant
been;
They'll thrive I doubt not in the least,
Who know what work
and service mean."
The maids at parting, one and all,
From different windows different
tones;
Bade him farewel with many a bawl,
And sent their love to
Mary Jones.
Victory!
He wav'd his hat, and turn'd away,
When loud the cry of children rose;

"Abner, good bye!" they stopt their play;
"There goes poor Bayard!
there he goes!"
Half choak'd with joy, with love, and pride,
He now with dainty
clover fed him,
Now took a short triumphant ride,
And then again
got down and led him.
And hobbling onward up