hild_. Will you want it, then?
Please want it--we like nailing.

_2d Child_. Yes, we do.

_J_. It seems I ought to want it: hold the bough,
And each may nail in turn.

[_Sings._]

Like a daisy I was, near him growing:
Must I move because favors flag,
And be like a brown wall-flower blowing
Far out of reach in a crag?
Lift! O lift, thou lowering sky;
An thou canst, thy blue regain!
An thou canst not, he and I
Need not part for drops of rain.

_1st Child_. Now, have we nailed enough?

_J. [trains the creepers_] Yes, you may go;
But do not play too near the churchyard path.

_M. [within_] Even misfortune does not strike so near
As my dependence. O, in youth and strength
To sit a timid coward in the dark,
And feel before I set a cautious step!
It is so very dark, so far more dark
Than any night that day comes after--night
In which there would be stars, or else at least
The silvered portion of a sombre cloud
Through which the moon is plunging.

_J. [entering]_ Merton!

_M_. Yes

_J_. Dear Merton, did you know that I could hear?

_M_. No: e'en my solitude is not mine now,
And if I be alone is ofttimes doubt.
Alas! far more than eyesight have I lost;
For manly courage drifteth after it--
E'en as a splintered spar would drift away
From some dismasted wreck. Hear, I complain--
Like a weak ailing woman I complain.

_J_. For the first time.

_M_. I cannot bear the dark.

_J_. My brother! you do bear it--bear it well--
Have borne it twelve long months, and not complained
Comfort your heart with music: all the air
Is warm with sunbeams where the organ stands.
You like to feel them on you. Come and play.

_M_. My fate, my fate is lonely!

_J_. So it is--
I know it is.

_M_. And pity breaks my heart.

_J_. Does it, dear Merton?

_M_. Yes, I say it does.
What! do you think I am so dull of ear
That I can mark no changes in the tones
That reach me? Once I liked not girlish pride
And that coy quiet, chary of reply,
That held me distant: now the sweetest lips
Open to entertain me--fairest hands
Are proffered me to guide.

_J_. That is not well?

_M_. No: give me coldness, pride, or still disdain,
Gentle withdrawal. Give me anything
But this--a fearless, sweet, confiding ease,
Whereof I may expect, I may exact,
Considerate care, and have it--gentle speech,
And have it. Give me anything but this!
For the