I rose with early morning light,
The meadows grey with rime,
To set the kitchen fire, and dight
The room for breakfast-time;
Or make the beds, or rinse and scour,
And all the while
A singing heart, a face aflower,
And secret smile.
So‘ twas with me week in, week out,
And no more to be said;
A moment's look, a hint of doubt,
A half-turn of the head.
I had my hands as full as full,
And full of work was he —
But I learn'd in another school
After he'd lookt at me.