day conceals. 
     And once when nurse who, since that time,
     Keeps house for me, was very sick,
     Waking upon the midnight chime,
     And listening to the stair-clock’s click,
     I heard a rustling, half uncertain,
     Close against the dark bed-curtain: 
     And while I thrust my leg to kick,
     And feel the phantom with my feet,
     A loving tongue began to lick
     My left hand lying on the sheet;
     And warm sweet breath upon me blew,
     And that ’twas Nancy then I knew. 
     So, for her love, I had good cause
     To have the creature “Nancy” christened.’

     He paused, and in the moment’s pause,
     His eyes and Willie’s strangely glistened. 
     Nearer came Joan, and Bessy hung
     With face averted, near enough
     To hear, and sob unheard; the young
     And careless ones had scampered off
     Meantime, and sought the loftiest place
     To beacon the approaching chase.

     ’Daily upon the meads to browse,
     Goes Nancy with those dairy cows
     You see behind the clematis: 
     And such a favourite she is,
     That when fatigued, and helter skelter,
     Among them from her foes to shelter,
     She dashes when the chase is over,
     They’ll close her in and give her cover,
     And bend their horns against the hounds,
     And low, and keep them out of bounds! 
     From the house dogs she dreads no harm,
     And is good friends with all the farm,
     Man, and bird, and beast, howbeit
     Their natures seem so opposite. 
     And she is known for many a mile,
     And noted for her splendid style,
     For her clear leap and quick slight hoof;
     Welcome she is in many a roof. 
     And if I say, I love her, man! 
     I say but little:  her fine eyes full
     Of memories of my girl, at Yule
     And May-time, make her dearer than
     Dumb brute to men has been, I think. 
     So dear I do not find her dumb. 
     I know her ways, her slightest wink,
     So well; and to my hand she’ll come,
     Sidelong, for food or a caress,
     Just like a loving human thing. 
     Nor can I help, I do confess,
     Some touch of human sorrowing
     To think there may be such a doubt
     That from the next world she’ll be shut out,
     And parted from me!  And well I mind
     How, when my girl’s last moments came,
     Her soft eyes very soft and kind,
     She joined her hands and prayed the same,
     That she “might meet her father, mother,
     Sister Bess, and each dear brother,
     And with them, if it might be, one
     Who was her last companion.” 
     Meaning the fawn—­the doe you mark —
     For my bay mare was then a foal,
     And time has passed since then:- but hark!’