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Mary look'd up into his face,
And nothing to him said;
She tried to smile, and on his arm
Mournfully leaned her head.
And he burst into tears, and fell
Upon his knees in prayer:
Her heart is broke! O God! my grief,
It is too great to bear!
'Twas such a foggy time as makes
Old Sextons, Sir! like me,
Rest on their spades to cough; the spring
Was late uncommonly.
And then the hot days, all at once,
They came, we knew not how:
You look'd about for shade, when scarce
A leaf was on a bough.
It happen'd then ('twas in the bower
A furlong up the wood:
Perhaps you know the place, and yet
I scarce know how you shou'd)
