Jean Blewett - The Cornflower, and Other Poems

Set a great and weighty problem forth,
One that no scholar on this green earth

Has been able to solve since things began
With Adam – a lone and lonesome man.

Yet very coolly she set it forth:
"Tell me the truth, how much am I worth?"

The sunbeams kissing her golden hair,
Her cheeks, her round arms dimpled and bare,

Seemed stamping value of mighty wealth
On youth, and love, and the bloom of health.

John looked and looked till his eyes grew dim,
Then tilted the hat with worthless brim.

To hide what he would not have her see —
"You are worth the whole world, Nan," said he.

"Then you're no beggar," said sweet, bold Nan,
"You're the whole world richer than any man."

A girl queen wearing a crown of gold
Set a precedent, the tale is told,

But no royal prince this world has seen
Ever felt so proud as John, I ween,

As he clasped her hands in new-born hope —
And never noticed they smelt of soap.

Only the sunflowers looking on,
So he kissed the maid – oh, foolish John!

As he went out through the garden gate
Ned Brown was coming to learn his fate.

He was riding John's own chestnut mare,
But, somehow, John didn't seem to care.

The two men met at top of the hill,
And eyed each other as rivals will.

Ned thought of the home he'd won from John,
"Poor beggar!" he said, as he rode on.

John thought of all he had won from Ned,
"You poor, poor beggar!" was what he said.

Why? Under the heavens clear and blue
Only our John and the sunflowers knew.

McLeod of Dare called his son to him.
McLeod of Dare looked stern and grim,

For he was sending on mission grave
His son, and though he knew him brave

The old man trembled lest he should make
In heedless youth a grave mistake.

'Twas not for the country, nor for the king,
Nay, 'twas a more important thing

Than country, or clan, or feud, or strife,
The young man went to woo a wife.

He listened, did Neil, with scanty grace,
Haughty gloom on his handsome face,

While the old man told him where to go,
And what to say, and what to do.

"The morrow ye'll go for a lang, lang stay
Wi' your rich uncle, Donald Gray.

"He'll gie ye a welcome wairm and true,
And mate his only child wi' you.

"She's weel worth winning, for in her hand
She hauds the deed o' a' his land.

"She's far frae haun'some – a homely lass,
As you will see – but let that pass."

"Why should I wed a woman that's plain?
You didn't yourself." McLeod was vain.

He smiled and he smirked, "Ah, true, Neil, true,
But I was haun'somer nor you.

"Juist coort this cousin, and never mind
Squint or freckle, since luve is blind —

"Or ought tae be in sic case as this —
'Tis no a chance I'd hae ye miss.

"Jane's na sae braw as her cousin Kate,
But 'tis wi' Jane I'd hae ye mate;

"For Kate, poor lassie, she hasna land —
Her face is her fortune, understand.

"Gie her guid day when ye chance tae meet,
But Jane, remember, your fain tae greet

"Wi' warmer words, and a gallant air.
Go, win a wife – and a warld o' care!"

Neil listened closest to what was said
Of Kate, the poor but pretty maid.

And when he reached his good uncle's place
'Twas Kate that in his eyes found grace,

The while Jane simpered with conscious pride,
As if to say: "Behold your bride!"

In this home he dwelt for many a day,
A favorite, he, of Donald Gray.

They walked together over the hill,
Or through the valleys solemn and still,

And the old man showed him acres wide
That would be Jane's dower as a bride,

Then spoke of the cousin, poor but fair,
Her eyes of blue and her golden hair.

"She'll hae na flocks, and she'll hae na laund,
She'll hae na fortune rich and graund,

"But gin she stood in her scanty dress,
Would man o' mettle luve her less?

The lad's heart warmed to the logic old.
What worth has land? What worth has gold?

Compared with the light in Katie's eyes,
What worth was aught beneath the skies?

Jane courted briskly day by day,
If he walked out she walked his way.

Did he sit him down to rest awhile,
She looked his way with tender smile.

Did he try to get a word with Kate,
Jane was there like the hand of fate.

One day it chanced, as he rode to mill,
He met with Kate just under the hill.

Would she mount beside him, ride along?
Yes, if he felt 'twould not be wrong.

He helped her up with a trembling arm;
Surely the day is close and warm.

Whoa, mare! steady! there's no need for haste
With two soft arms about his waist.

Neil – shame on him! – pressed Kate's finger-tips,
Then turned about and pressed her lips.

All over the road the blossoms white
Scattered themselves in sheer delight.

A bird flew singing a tender rhyme
Of meadow, mate, and nesting time.

The world looked beautiful in the glow
That heaven flung on the hills below.

Ah me, if that ride could but last a week,
Her gold hair blowing against his cheek!

The road to the mill, says worldly wise —
Nay, nay, the road to Paradise!

Travel it once if you wish to know
Something of heaven here below.

Though your eyes grow dim, and locks grow white,
You'll not forget this journey – quite.

But Neil must go to the old home place,
Meet his stern father face to face.

Altho' his cheek was a trifle pale,
Boldly enough he told his tale.

He would marry Kate – and Kate alone —
He could not love the other one.

Her eyes were crooked, her hair was red,
Freckles over her face were spread,

And the whole world held no lass for him
But Kate. Then laughed the old man grim.