To watch when you stirred
Busily like a bird
At household doings; with hands floured
Mixing a magic with your cakes and tarts.

O into me, sick, froward,
Yourself you poured;
In all those days and weeks when I
Sat, slept, woke, whimpered, wondered and slept again.

Now but a memory
To bless and harry me
Remains of you still swathed with care;
Myself your chief care, sitting by the hearth

Propped in the pillowed chair,
Following you with tired stare,
And my hand following the wood lines
By dead hands smoothed and followed many years.

VIII

THE SWING

It was like floating in a blessed dream to roam
Across green meadows, far from home,
With only trees and quivering sky to hedge the sight,
Dazzling the eyes with strange delight. 
Such wide, wide fields I had never seen, and never dreamed
Could be; and wonderful it seemed
To wander over green and under green and run
Unwatched even of the shining sun.

One tree there was that held a wrinkled creaking bough
Far over the grass, hanging low;
And a swing from it hanging drew us near and made
New brightness beneath that doming shade. 
For there my sisters swung long hours delightedly,
And there delighted clambered I;
And all our voices shrilled as one when up we flung
And into the stinging sharp leaves swung.

Then in a garden dense with bramble and sweet flowers
Where honeysuckle a new sweetness pours,
We sat and ate and drank.  Well I remember how
We were all shaded by one bough
Bending with red fruit over our uplifted eyes,
Teasing our well-watched covetousness.

And then we went back happy to the empty swing,
But I was tired of everything
Except the grass and trees and the wide shadows there
Widening slowly everywhere. 
It was like swinging in a solemn dream to roam
In a strange air, far from home—­
Until I saw the shadows suddenly wake and move,
And float, float down from above. 
Then I ran quickly back, round the large gloomy trees,
O with what shivering unease! 
And stumbled where they waited, and was far too glad,
Finding them, to be afraid or sad. 
—­Then waited an unforgetting year once more to see
So wide a sky, so great a tree.

IX

FEAR

Surely I must have ailed
  On that dark night,
Or my childish courage failed
  Because there was no light;
Or terror must have come
  With his chill wing,
And made my angel dumb,
  Or found him slumbering. 
Because I could not sleep
  Terror began to wake,
Close at my side to creep
  And sting me like a snake. 
And I was afraid of death,
  But when I thought of pain—­
O, language no word hath