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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 139 pages of information about Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems.

TWICE

I took my heart in my hand
  (O my love, O my love),
I said:  Let me fall or stand,
  Let me live or die,
But this once hear me speak—­
  (O my love, O my love)—­
Yet a woman’s words are weak;
  You should speak, not I.

You took my heart in your hand
  With a friendly smile, 10
With a critical eye you scanned,
  Then set it down,
And said:  It is still unripe,
  Better wait awhile;
Wait while the skylarks pipe,
  Till the corn grows brown.

As you set it down it broke—­
  Broke, but I did not wince;
I smiled at the speech you spoke,
  At your judgement that I heard:  20
But I have not often smiled
  Since then, nor questioned since,
Nor cared for corn-flowers wild,
  Nor sung with the singing bird.

I take my heart in my hand,
  O my God, O my God,
My broken heart in my hand: 
  Thou hast seen, judge Thou. 
My hope was written on sand,
  O my God, O my God:  30
Now let thy judgement stand—­
  Yea, judge me now.

This contemned of a man,
  This marred one heedless day,
This heart take Thou to scan
  Both within and without: 
Refine with fire its gold,
  Purge thou its dross away—­
Yea, hold it in Thy hold,
  Whence none can pluck it out. 40

I take my heart in my hand—­
  I shall not die, but live—­
Before Thy face I stand;
  I, for Thou callest such: 
All that I have I bring,
  All that I am I give,
Smile Thou and I shall sing,
  But shall not question much.

SONGS IN A CORNFIELD

A song in a cornfield
  Where corn begins to fall,
Where reapers are reaping,
  Reaping one, reaping all. 
Sing pretty Lettice,
  Sing Rachel, sing May;
Only Marian cannot sing
  While her sweetheart’s away.

Where is he gone to
  And why does he stay? 10
He came across the green sea
  But for a day,
Across the deep green sea
  To help with the hay.

His hair was curly yellow
  And his eyes were grey,
He laughed a merry laugh
  And said a sweet say. 
Where is he gone to
  That he comes not home? 20
To-day or to-morrow
  He surely will come. 
Let him haste to joy
  Lest he lag for sorrow,
For one weeps to-day
  Who’ll not weep to-morrow: 
To-day she must weep
  For gnawing sorrow,
To-night she may sleep
  And not wake to-morrow. 30

May sang with Rachel
  In the waxing warm weather,
Lettice sang with them,
  They sang all together:—­

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