Her Praise
She is foremost of those that I would hear praised.I have gone about the house, gone up and downAs a man does who has published a new bookOr a young girl dressed out in her new gown,And though I have turned the talk by hook or crookUntil her praise should be the uppermost theme,A woman spoke of some new tale she had read,A man confusedly in a half dreamAs though some other name ran in his head.She is foremost of those that I would hear praised.I will talk no more of books or the long warBut walk by the dry thorn until I have foundSome beggar sheltering from the wind, and thereManage the talk until her name come round.If there be rags enough he will know her nameAnd be well pleased remembering it, for in the old days,Though she had young men's praise and old men's blame,Among the poor both old and young gave her praise.
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