Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/109

“My work is done,” said poor Kathleen,
And put her wheel aside,
“Yet like God's Mother sweet she looked,
So fair and holy-eyed.”

“And though no silken gown I wear
To deck me as a bride,
I yet can pray with grateful heart,
For we have much beside.

“To-morrow in the bare brown earth
We set our golden seed,
The yellow corn we scatter wide,
To make us rich indeed.”

Now as she spake beside her stood
An aged man and frail,
And there all piteous to her ear,
He told a woeful tale.

“I have not silver now nor gold,
Nor cloth to robe you in,
Yet should I giftless drive you forth
It were a grievous sin.”

She gave the sack of golden corn
That was her father's store,
And in her breast her frightened heart
Was beating wild and sore.

“Oh, woe is me,” she turned and cried,
“My father stern and cold,
Oh, cruel will he be to her
Who robbed him of his gold!”

She took the chaff in her two hands
With many a moan and sigh,
And spread it on the bare brown earth
Before her sire went by.