And the warning cry of a Phoebe bird
"More wet, more wet, more wet."

With a blithe "Hello" to the men below
Who were spreading the new-mown hay,
The rider drew rein at her window-pane -
How it all came back to-day!
How young she was, and how fair she was;
What innocence crowned her brow!
The future seemed fair, for Love was there -
And now--and now--and now.

In a dingy glass on the wall near by
She gazed on her faded face.
"Well, Meg, I declare, what a beauty you are!
She sneered, "What an angel of grace!
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
What a thing of beauty and grace!"
She reached out her arms with a moaning sob:
"Oh, if I could go back!"
Then, swift and strange, came a sudden change;
Her brow grew hard and black.

"A curse on the day and a curse on that man,
And on all who are his," she cried;
"May he starve and be cold, may he live to be old
When all who loved him have died."
Her wild voice frightened the robin away
From the branch by the window-sill;
And little he knew as away he flew,