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[272] She looked up in his face of pain
     So archly, yet so tender:
“And if I lend you mine,” she said,
     “Will you forgive the lender?

“Nor frock nor tan can hide the man;
     And see you not, my farmer,
How weak and fond a woman waits
     Behind this silken armor?

“I love you: on that love alone,
     And not my worth, presuming,
Will you not trust for summer fruit
     The tree in May-day blooming?”

Alone the hangbird overhead,
     His hair-swung cradle straining,
Looked down to see love's miracle,—
     The giving that is gaining.

And so the farmer found a wife,
     His mother found a daughter:
There looks no happier home than hers
     On pleasant Bearcamp Water.

Flowers spring to blossom where she walks
     The careful ways of duty;
Our hard, stiff lines of life with her
     Are flowing curves of beauty.

O'Cur homes are cheerier for her sake,
     Our door-yards brighter blooming,
And all about the social air
     Is sweeter for her coming.

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Flowers Spring (Tennessee, United States) (1)

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