Sweet Stay-at-Home

Thou hast not seen black fingers pick

White cotton when the bloom is thick,

Nor heard black throats in harmony;

Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie

Flat on the earth, that once did rise

To hide proud kings from common eyes,

Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom

Where green things had such little room

They pleased the eye like fairer flowers—

Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours.

Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place,

Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face;

For thou hast made more homely stuff

Nurture thy gentle self enough;

I love thee for a heart that’s kind —

Not for the knowledge in thy mind.