I got to thinkin’ of her; and a-wundern what she done
That all her sisters kep’ a-gittin’ married, one by one,
And her without no chances—­and the best girl of the pack—­
An old maid, with her hands, you might say, tied behind her back! 
And Mother, too, afore she died, she ust to jes’ take on,
When none of ’em was left, you know, but Evaline and John,
And jes’ declare to goodness ’at the young men must be bline
To not see what a wife they’d git if they got Evaline!

I got to thinkin’ of her; in my great affliction she
Was sich a comfert to us, and so kind and neighberly,—­
She’d come, and leave her housework, fer to he’p out little Jane,
And talk of her own mother ’at she’d never see again—­
Maybe sometimes cry together—­though, fer the most part she
Would have the child so riconciled and happy-like ’at we
Felt lonesomer ’n ever when she’d put her bonnet on
And say she’d railly haf to be a-gittin’ back to John!

I got to thinkin’ of her, as I say,—­and more and more
I’d think of her dependence, and the burdens ’at she bore,—­
Her parents both a-bein’ dead, and all her sisters gone
And married off, and her a-livin’ there alone with John—­
You might say jes’ a-toilin’ and a-slavin’ out her life
Fer a man ’at hadn’t pride enough to git hisse’f a wife—­
’Less some one married Evaline and packed her off some day!—­
So I got to thinkin’ of her—­and it happened thataway.

[Illustration:  (HOW IT HAPPENED)]

WHEN MY DREAMS COME TRUE

I

When my dreams come true—­when my dreams come true—­
Shall I lean from out my casement, in the starlight and the dew,
To listen—­smile and listen to the tinkle of the strings
Of the sweet guitar my lover’s fingers fondle, as he sings? 
And as the nude moon slowly, slowly shoulders into view,
Shall I vanish from his vision—­when my dreams come true?

When my dreams come true—­shall the simple gown I wear
Be changed to softest satin, and my maiden-braided hair
Be raveled into flossy mists of rarest, fairest gold,
To be minted into kisses, more than any heart can hold?—­
Or “the summer of my tresses” shall my lover liken to
“The fervor of his passion”—­when my dreams come true?

II

When my dreams come true—­I shall bide among the sheaves
Of happy harvest meadows; and the grasses and the leaves
Shall lift and lean between me and the splendor of the sun,
Till the moon swoons into twilight, and the gleaners’ work is done—­
Save that yet an arm shall bind me, even as the reapers do
The meanest sheaf of harvest—­when my dreams come true.

When my dreams come true! when my dreams come true! 
True love in all simplicity is fresh and pure as dew;—­
The blossom in the blackest mold is kindlier to the eye
Than any lily born of pride that looms against the sky: 
And so it is I know my heart will gladly welcome you,
My lowliest of lovers, when my dreams come true.