She was a little girl who loved the town,
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She had no thought in the world
Joy was she all through and through,
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As a wild rose filled with dew;
Work liked she not, nor had she wish to do
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Aught but to laugh and love right merrily,
And watch the bubbles rising in the glass—
Our little Mary—sweet little Mary—
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It was as though she were made but of eyes and hair,
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No thought had she in her sweet small head,
Books read she not—she kissed instead,
Like a desert aflame with drouth;
For, though of kisses she drained a thousand score,
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She would laugh unappeased and cry out for more;
She counted neither kisses nor the cost.
She was very young, and some who loved her well
Our little Mary will go down into deep hell,
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Unless we send her back to the country and the grass;
For there are many hawks in the town," said they,
"For little birds like you, Mary, you must not stay;
You must go back and be safe with good country folk,
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And say your prayers again and bear the yoke,
And be a good girl, Mary,"—and Mary went
Home very sad and obedient.
Am very sorry for Mary, and wish she had not gone.
That, being as God made her, caring nought for birds
Humdrum work of the house,
Pigs and chickens and cows,
The country will help her not with its stars and flowers,
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She will be Mary there as she was Mary here;
That love as she loved them the shining streets
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At midnight more than the Milky Way,
And stolen joys and forbidden sweets;
She had been safer here with us in the town,
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Than by running streams or on daisied down.
For, as birds are born for the air and fish for the sea,
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She was not born to be good as good people be,
Not born for dulness and duty, but only glee;
And we who can drink the cup with a steady hand
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Had taught our little Mary the way to be wise
Even in folly, brought her to understand
The half is more than the whole,
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And saved her innocent eyes,
But now for Mary a great fear have I:
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There in the country, with the pigs and cows
And family Bibles, she shall fret and sigh,
And all her prisoned thoughts dream and carouse
In pleasures lost—till on a sudden day
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Mary shall up and out and far away
And seize the cup once more, and drain it down
And kiss . . . and this time drown.