away
  Into the gray of mountains!  With a chill
  The wide strange world swept round her, and she clung
  Close to her husband’s side.  A silken tent
  They spread for her, and for her tiring-girls,
  Upon the hills at sunset.  All was hushed
  Save Edwin; for the thought that Bertha slept
  In that wild place,—­roofed by the moaning wind,
  The black blue midnight with its fiery pulse,—­
  So good, so precious, woke a tenderness
  In which there lived uneasily a fear
  That kept him still awake.  And now, high up,
  There burned upon the mountain’s craggy top
  Their journey’s rosy signal.  On they went;
  And as the day advanced, upon a ridge,
  They saw their home o’ershadowed by a cloud;
  And, hanging but a moment on the steep,
  A sunbeam touched it into dusty rain;
  And, lo, the town lay gleaming ’mong the woods,
  And the wet shores were bright.  As nigh they drew,
  The town was emptied to its very babes,
  And spread as thick as daisies o’er the fields. 
  The wind that swayed a thousand chestnut cones,
  And sported in the surges of the rye,
  Forgot its idle play, and, smit with love,
  Dwelt in her fluttering robe.  On every side
  The people leaped like billows for a sight,
  And closed behind, like waves behind a ship. 
  Yet, in the very hubbub of the joy,
  A deepening hush went with her on her way;
  She was a thing so exquisite, the hind
  Felt his own rudeness; silent women blessed
  The lady, as her beauty swam in eyes
  Sweet with unwonted tears.  Through crowds she passed,
  Distributing a largess of her smiles;
  And as she entered through the palace-gate,
  The wondrous sunshine died from out the air,
  And everything resumed its common look. 
  The sun dropped down into the golden west,
  Evening drew on apace; and round the fire
  The people sat and talked of her who came
  That day to dwell amongst them, and they praised
  Her sweet face, saying she was good as fair.

  “So, while the town hummed on as was its wont,
  With mill, and wheel, and scythe, and lowing steer
  In the green field,—­while, round a hundred hearths,
  Brown Labor boasted of the mighty deeds
  Done in the meadow swaths, and Envy hissed
  Its poison, that corroded all it touched,—­
  Rusting a neighbor’s gold, mildewing wheat,
  And blistering the pure skin of chastest maid,—­
  Edwin and Bertha sat in marriage joy,
  From all removed, as heavenly creatures winged,
  Alit upon a hill-top near the sun,
  When all the world is reft of man and town
  By distance, and their hearts the silence fills—­
  Not long:  for unto them, as unto all,
  Down from love’s height unto the world of men
  Occasion called with many a sordid voice. 
  So forth they fared with sweetness in their hearts,
  That took the sense of sharpness from