Poems (Trask)/A Change of Opinion

by Clara Augusta Jones Trask

A CHANGE OF OPINION.

MOTHER.

Bessie, 'tis time the brindled cow was milked!
 The shadows of the hill
Are falling down so fast they hide away
 The roof of Walton's mill,—
Go, Bessie, ere the gloom of weeping night
 Comes with its wings of ill.

DAUGHTER.

But, mother dear, Will Kendall said, yestreen,
 To-day they'd reap the grain,
And he'd come over at the set of sun
 To help me glean the plain.
Please, mother, can't the brindle heifer wait
 Till I come back again?

MOTHER.

No, Bessie, I'll not have you tramping out
 With Will, this chilly night!
Why, child, the very air bears on its wings
 A dreadful fever-blight!
Go to your milking, Bess, while yet the stains
 Of sunset on the sky are bright!

DAUGHTER.

Well, mother, sure I know dear Will will think
 I'm fickle and untrue!
And a great shade of sadness will come o'er
 His eye so calm and blue;
And he will think that I have played him false,—
 Not dreaming it was you!

MOTHER.

Bessie, 'tis nonsense loving this young Will!
 He's plain, and proud, and poor!
If 'twere not for the gossip of the dames,
 I'd drive him from my door;
And I forbid you e'er to see his face,
 Or listen to his silly love-words more!

DAUGHTER.

But, mother, Willie's Aunt Jerome is dead,—
 Died but a week ago,—
And left ten thousand pounds of gold to Will!
 Last night he told me so;
And he's to be a gentleman, and dwell
 Where servants at his bidding come and go!

MOTHER.

Ha! Ann Jerome is dead? Bess, say you so?
 And left her wealth to Will?
Well, child, you needn't mind about that cow,
 She'll feed upon the hill;
And put the ribbons in your curls, my love,
 And go and meet young Will.