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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416627" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>He Called Her In</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He called her in from me and shut the door.<br>And she so loved the sunshine and the sky!--<br>She loved them even better yet than I<br>That ne'er knew dearth of them--my mother dead,<br>Nature had nursed me in her lap instead:<br>And I had grown a dark and eerie child<br>That rarely smiled,<br>Save when, shut all alone in grasses high,<br>Looking straight up in God's great lonesome sky<br>And coaxing Mother to smile back on me.<br>'Twas lying thus, this fair girl suddenly<br>Came to me, nestled in the fields beside<br>A pleasant-seeming home, with doorway wide--<br>The sunshine beating in upon the floor</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like golden rain.--<br>O sweet, sweet face above me, turn again<br>And leave me! I had cried, but that an ache<br>Within my throat so gripped it I could make<br>No sound but a thick sobbing. Cowering so,<br>I felt her light hand laid<br>Upon my hair--a touch that ne'er before<br>Had tamed me thus, all soothed and unafraid--<br>It seemed the touch the children used to know<br>When Christ was here, so dear it was--so dear,--<br>At once I loved her as the leaves love dew<br>In midmost summer when the days are new.<br>Barely an hour I knew her, yet a curl<br>Of silken sunshine did she clip for me<br>Out of the bright May-morning of her hair,<br>And bound and gave it to me laughingly,<br>And caught my hands and called me '_Little girl_,'<br>Tiptoeing, as she spoke, to kiss me there!<br>And I stood dazed and dumb for very stress<br>Of my great happiness.<br>She plucked me by the gown, nor saw how mean<br>The raiment--drew me with her everywhere:<br>Smothered her face in tufts of grasses green:<br>Put up her dainty hands and peeped between<br>Her fingers at the blossoms--crooned and talked<br>To them in strange, glad whispers, as we walked,--<br>Said _this_ one was her angel mother--_this_,<br>Her baby-sister--come back, for a kiss,<br>Clean from the Good-World!--smiled and kissed them, then<br>Closed her soft eyes and kissed them o'er again.<br>And so did she beguile me--so we played,--<br>She was the dazzling Shine--I, the dark Shade--<br>And we did mingle like to these, and thus,<br>Together, made<br>The perfect summer, pure and glorious.<br>So blent we, till a harsh voice broke upon<br>Our happiness.--She, startled as a fawn,<br>Cried, 'Oh, 'tis Father!'--all the blossoms gone<br>From out her cheeks as those from out her grasp.--<br>Harsher the voice came:--She could only gasp<br>Affrightedly, 'Good-bye!--good-bye! good-bye!'<br>And lo, I stood alone, with that harsh cry<br>Ringing a new and unknown sense of shame<br>Through soul and frame,<br>And, with wet eyes, repeating o'er and o'er,--<br>'He called her in from me and shut the door!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He called her in from me and shut the door!<br>And I went wandering alone again--<br>So lonely--O so very lonely then,<br>I thought no little sallow star, alone<br>In all a world of twilight, e'er had known<br>Such utter loneliness. But that I wore<br>Above my heart that gleaming tress of hair<br>To lighten up the night of my despair,<br>I think I might have groped into my grave<br>Nor cared to wave<br>The ferns above it with a breath of prayer.<br>And how I hungered for the sweet, sweet face<br>That bent above me in my hiding-place<br>That day amid the grasses there beside<br>Her pleasant home!--'Her _pleasant_ home!' I sighed,<br>Remembering;--then shut my teeth and feigned<br>The harsh voice calling _me_,--then clinched my nails<br>So deeply in my palms, the sharp wounds pained,<br>And tossed my face toward heaven, as one who pales<br>In splendid martyrdom, with soul serene,<br>As near to God as high the guillotine.<br>And I had _envied_ her? Not that--O no!<br>But I had longed for some sweet haven so!--<br>Wherein the tempest-beaten heart might ride<br>Sometimes at peaceful anchor, and abide<br>Where those that loved me touched me with their hands,<br>And looked upon me with glad eyes, and slipped<br>Smooth fingers o'er my brow, and lulled the strands<br>Of my wild tresses, as they backward tipped<br>My yearning face and kissed it satisfied.<br>Then bitterly I murmured as before,--<br>'He called her in from me and shut the door!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He called her in from me and shut the door!<br>After long struggling with my pride and pain--<br>A weary while it seemed, in which the more<br>I held myself from her, the greater fain<br>Was I to look upon her face again;--<br>At last--at last--half conscious where my feet<br>Were faring, I stood waist-deep in the sweet<br>Green grasses there where she<br>First came to me.--<br>The very blossoms she had plucked that day,<br>And, at her father's voice, had cast away,<br>Around me lay,<br>Still bright and blooming in these eyes of mine;<br>And as I gathered each one eagerly,<br>I pressed it to my lips and drank the wine<br>Her kisses left there for the honey-bee.<br>Then, after I had laid them with the tress</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of her bright hair with lingering tenderness,<br>I, turning, crept on to the hedge that bound<br>Her pleasant-seeming home--but all around<br>Was never sign of her!--The windows all<br>Were blinded; and I heard no rippling fall<br>Of her glad laugh, nor any harsh voice call;--<br>But clutching to the tangled grasses, caught<br>A sound as though a strong man bowed his head<br>And sobbed alone--unloved--uncomforted!--<br>And then straightway before<br>My tearless eyes, all vividly, was wrought<br>A vision that is with me evermore:--<br>A little girl that lies asleep, nor hears<br>Nor heeds not any voice nor fall of tears.--<br>And I sit singing o'er and o'er and o'er,--<br>'God called her in from him and shut the door!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Whitcomb+Riley">James Whitcomb Riley</a><div class=q>
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He called her in from me and shut the door.
And she so loved the sunshine and the sky!--
She loved them even better yet than I
That ne'er knew dearth of them--my mother dead,
Nature had nursed me in her lap instead:
And I had grown a dark and e..."></div>
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