human
And yet I wish,-- For sometimes very right and serious thoughts Come to me,--I do wish that they would come When they are wanted!--when I teach the sums On rainy days, and when the practising I count to, and the din goes on and on, Still the same tune and still the same mistake, Then I am wise enough: sometimes I feel Quite old. I think that it will last, and say, 'Now my reflections do me credit! now I am a woman!' and I wish they knew How serious all my duties look to me. And how, my heart hushed down and shaded lies, Just like the sea when low, convenient clouds, Come over, and drink all its sparkles up. But does it last? Perhaps, that very day, The front door opens: out we walk in pairs; And I am so delighted with this world, That suddenly has grown, being new washed, To such a smiling, clean, and thankful world, And with a tender face shining through tears, Looks up into the sometime lowering sky, That has been angry, but is reconciled, And just forgiving her, that I,--that I,-- O, I forget myself: what matters how! And then I hear (but always kindly said) Some words that pain me so,--but just, but true; 'For if your place in this establishment Be but subordinate, and if your birth Be lowly, it the more behooves,--well, well, No more. We see that you are sorry.' Yes! I am always sorry THEN; but now,--O, now, Here is a bight more beautiful than all.
gpt
And did they scold her, then, my pretty one? And did she want to be as wise as they, To bear a bucklered heart and priggish mind? Ay, you may crow; she did! but no, no, no, The night-time will not let her, all the stars Say nay to that,--the old sea laughs at her. Why, Gladys is a child; she has not skill To shut herself within her own small cell, And build the door up, and to say, 'Poor me! I am a prisoner'; then to take hewn stones, And, having built the windows up, to say, 'O, it is dark! there is no sunshine here; There never has been.'
human
A simple child, she added, and went by,
gpt
To want to change her greater for their less; But Gladys shall not do it, no, not she; We love her--don't we?--far too well for that.
human
How could she be so near, and I not know? And have I spoken out my thought aloud? I must have done, forgetting. It is well She walks so fast, for I am hungry now, And here is water cantering down the cliff, And here a shell to catch it with, and here The round plump buns they gave me, and the fruit. Now she is gone behind the rock. O, rare To be alone! So Gladys sat her down, Unpacked her little basket, ate and drank, Then pushed her hands into the warm dry sand, And thought the earth was happy, and she too Was going round with it in happiness, That holiday.
gpt
What was it that she said? Quoth Gladys, cogitating;
human
sighed Gladys,
gpt
Indeed, Indeed it is an island: how is this, I never saw it till this fortunate Rare holiday?