Page:Pleasant Memories.pdf/196

                                             With traveller's glance
We turned from Warwick's castellated dome,
Wrapped in its cloud of rich remembrances,
And took our pilgrim way. There many a trait
Of rural life we gathered up, to fill
The outline of our picture, shaded strong
By the dark pencil of old feudal times.

We saw a rustic household wandering forth
That cloudless afternoon, perchance to make
Some visit promised long, for each was clad
With special care as on a holiday.
The father bore the baby awkwardly
In his coarse arms, like tool or burden used
About his work, yet kindly bent him down
To hear its little murmur of delight.
With a more practised hand the mother led
One who could scarcely totter, its small feet
Patting unequally,—from side to side
Its rotund body balancing. Alone,
Majestic in an added year, walked on
Between the groups another ruddy one.
She faltereth at the style, but being raised
And set upon the green sward, how she shouts,
Curvets, and gambols like a playful lamb,
Plucking with pride and wonder, here and there,
Herbling or flower, o'er which the baby crows,
One moment, and the next, with chubby hand
Rendeth in pieces like a conqueror.