How often she went with Reuben Brown
To the rustic dance or the social bee.

The warm flush deepened on Phoebe's cheek,
And she breathed a low, half-conscious sigh;
Ah, well-a-day! they were happy times,
But he has forgotten, and so must I."

So Phoebe gathered her knitting up,
Which, while she was thinking, had fallen down,
When her quick ear caught a strange footfall,
And there in the doorway stood Reuben Brown,

With the same frank, handsome face she knew,
A smile as bright, and an eye as black--
"Phoebe," he said, "I have wandered far;
Are you glad to see your playmate back?"

The kitten still purred on the kitchen hearth,
And the ancient clock, with its frame of oak,
In the corner stood, like a sentinel,
And challenged time with its measured stroke.

A pleased light shone in the maiden's eyes;
Ah, love, young love, it is very sweet!
Reuben had gone, but she sat quite still,
And the knitting lay untouched at her feet.

Just then the dame came bustling in,
And went to the oven without ado.