in charge of. Then a spell
Of conscience sent her through the orchard spying Upon the
gardeners. Were their tools about?
Were any branches broken? Had the
weeds Been duly taken out
Under the spaliered pears, and were these lying
Nailed snug against the sunny bricks and drying
Their leaves and satisfying all their needs?
VI
She picked a stone up with a little pout, Stones
looked so ill in well-kept flower-borders.
Where should she put it? All the paths about Were
strewn with fair, red gravel by her orders.
No stone could mar their sifted smoothness. So She
hurried to the river. At the edge
She stood a moment charmed by the swift blue Beyond
the river sedge.
She watched it curdling, crinkling, and the snow
Purfled upon its wave-tops. Then, Hullo,
My Beauty, gently, or youll wriggle through.
VII
The Lady Eunice caught a willow spray To save
herself from tumbling in the shallows
Which rippled to her feet. Then straight away She
peered down stream among the budding sallows.
A youth in leather breeches and a shirt Of finest broidered
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