LITMIR.BIZ

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      With its iterated jingle

      Of sugar-baited words:

      Not for all her watching

      Once discerning even one goblin

      Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;

      Let alone the herds

      That used to tramp along the glen,

      In groups or single,

      Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

       Till Lizzie urged: "O Laura, come;

      I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look:

      You should not loiter longer at this brook:

      Come with me home.

      The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,

      Each glow-worm winks her spark,

      Let us get home before the night grows dark;

      For clouds may gather

      Though this is summer weather,

      Put out the lights and drench us through;

      Then if we lost our way what should we do?"

       Laura turned cold as stone

      To find her sister heard that cry alone,

      That goblin cry,

      "Come buy our fruits, come buy."

      Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?

      Must she no more such succous pasture find,

      Gone deaf and blind?

      Her tree of life drooped from the root:

      She said not one word in her heart's sore ache;

      But peering thro' the dimness, naught discerning,

      Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;

      So crept to bed, and lay

      Silent till Lizzie slept;

      Then sat up in a passionate yearning,

      And gnashed her teeth for balked desire, and wept

      As if her heart would break.

       Day after day, night after night,

      Laura kept watch in vain,

      In sullen silence of exceeding pain.

      She never caught again the goblin cry:

      "Come buy, come buy";--

      She never spied the goblin men

      Hawking their fruits along the glen:

      But when the noon waxed bright

      Her hair grew thin and gray;

      She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn

      To swift decay, and burn

      Her fire away.

       One day remembering her kernel-stone

      She set it by a wall that faced the south;

      Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,

      Watched for a waxing shoot,

      But there came none;

      It never saw the sun,

      It never felt the trickling moisture run:

      While with sunk eyes and faded mouth

      She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees

      False waves in desert drouth

      With shade of leaf-crowned trees,

      And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.

       She no more swept the house,

      Tended the fowls or cows,

      Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,

      Brought water from the brook:

      But sat down listless in the chimney-nook

      And would not eat.

       Tender Lizzie could not bear

      To watch her sister's cankerous care,

      Yet not to share.

      She night and morning

      Caught the goblins' cry:

      "Come buy our orchard fruits,

      Come buy, come buy."

      Beside the brook, along the glen,

      She heard the tramp of goblin men,

      The voice and stir

      Poor Laura could not hear;

      Longed to buy fruit to comfort her,

      But feared to pay too dear.

      She thought of Jeanie in her grave,

      Who should have been a bride;

      But who for joys brides hope to have

      Fell sick and died

      In her gay prime,

      In earliest winter-time,

      With the first glazing rime,

      With the first snow-fall of crisp winter-time.

       Till Laura, dwindling,

      Seemed knocking at Death's door:

      Then Lizzie weighed no more

      Better and worse,

      But put a silver penny in her purse,

      Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze

      At twilight, halted by the brook;

      And for the first time in her life

      Began to listen and look.

       Laughed every goblin

      When they spied her peeping:

      Came towards her hobbling,

      Flying, running, leaping,

      Puffing and blowing,

      Chuckling, clapping, crowing,

      Clucking and gobbling,

      Mopping and mowing,

      Full of airs and graces,

      Pulling wry faces,

      Demure grimaces,

      Cat-like and rat-like,

      Ratel and wombat-like,

      Snail-paced in a hurry,

      Parrot-voiced and whistler,

      Helter-skelter, hurry-skurry,

      Chattering like magpies,

      Fluttering like pigeons,

      Gliding like fishes,--

      Hugged her and kissed her;

      Squeezed and caressed her;

      Stretched up their dishes,

      Panniers and plates:

      "Look at our apples

      Russet and dun,

      Bob at our cherries,

      Bite at our peaches,

      Citrons and dates,

      Grapes for the asking,

      Pears red with basking

      Out in the sun,

      Plums on their twigs;

      Pluck them and suck them,

      Pomegranates, figs."

       "Good folk," said Lizzie,

      Mindful of Jeanie,

      "Give me much and many";--

      Held out her apron,

      Tossed them her penny.

      "Nay, take a seat with us,

      Honor and eat with us,"

      They answered grinning:

      "Our

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