J.  You shall, If I should want help.

1st Child.  Will you want it, then?  Please want it—­we like nailing.

2d Child.  Yes, we do.

J.  It seems I ought to want it:  hold the bough, And each may nail in turn.

[Sings.]

Like a daisy I was, near him growing: 
  Must I move because favors flag,
And be like a brown wall-flower blowing
  Far out of reach in a crag? 
Lift!  O lift, thou lowering sky;
  An thou canst, thy blue regain! 
An thou canst not, he and I
  Need not part for drops of rain.

1st Child.  Now, have we nailed enough?

J. [trains the creepers] Yes, you may go; But do not play too near the churchyard path.

M. [within] Even misfortune does not strike so near
As my dependence.  O, in youth and strength
To sit a timid coward in the dark,
And feel before I set a cautious step! 
It is so very dark, so far more dark
Than any night that day comes after—­night
In which there would be stars, or else at least
The silvered portion of a sombre cloud
Through which the moon is plunging.

J. [entering] Merton!

M.  Yes

J.  Dear Merton, did you know that I could hear?

M.  No:  e’en my solitude is not mine now, And if I be alone is ofttimes doubt.  Alas! far more than eyesight have I lost; For manly courage drifteth after it—­ E’en as a splintered spar would drift away From some dismasted wreck.  Hear, I complain—­ Like a weak ailing woman I complain.

J.  For the first time.

M.  I cannot bear the dark.

J.  My brother! you do bear it—­bear it well—­ Have borne it twelve long months, and not complained Comfort your heart with music:  all the air Is warm with sunbeams where the organ stands.  You like to feel them on you.  Come and play.

M.  My fate, my fate is lonely!

J.  So it is—­ I know it is.

M.  And pity breaks my heart.

J.  Does it, dear Merton?

M.  Yes, I say it does. 
What! do you think I am so dull of ear
That I can mark no changes in the tones
That reach me?  Once I liked not girlish pride
And that coy quiet, chary of reply,
That held me distant:  now the sweetest lips
Open to entertain me—­fairest hands
Are proffered me to guide.

J.  That is not well?

M.  No:  give me coldness, pride, or still disdain,
Gentle withdrawal.  Give me anything
But this—­a fearless, sweet, confiding ease,
Whereof I may expect, I may exact,
Considerate care, and have it—­gentle speech,
And have it.  Give me anything but this! 
For they who give it, give it in the faith