"For health comes sparkling in the streams
From cool Chocorua stealing
There's iron in our Northern winds;
Our pines are trees of healing.
"She sat beneath the broad-armed elms
That skirt the mowing-meadow,
And watched the gentle west-wind weave
The grass with shine and shadow.
"Beside her, from the summer heat
To share her grateful screening,
With forehead bared, the farmer stood,
Upon his pitchfork leaning.
"Framed in its damp, dark locks, his face
Had nothing mean or common,--
Strong, manly, true, the tenderness
And pride beloved of woman.
"She looked up, glowing with the health
The country air had brought her,
And, laughing, said: 'You lack a wife,
Your mother lacks a daughter.
"'To mend your frock and bake your bread
You do not need a lady
Be sure among these brown old homes
Is some one waiting ready,--
"'Some fair, sweet girl with skilful hand
And cheerful heart for treasure,
Who never played with ivory keys,
Or danced the polka's measure.'
"He bent his black brows to a frown,
He set his white teeth tightly.
''T is well,' he said, 'for one like you
To choose for me so lightly.
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