My Sweet Little Love

She is nearer to the world of legend than to reality!!

I met her today, where the rippling brook crosses her father's land. Her cheeks were redder than the cheeks of apples, her eyes brighter than water under the rays of the sun, and on her lips was the sweetest smile in existence. I sat down beside her and said to her:

— My sweet little love, when will you come with me to my far-off house on the hill, and fill it with mirth and gladness?

Sadness clothed her limpid gaze, and she answered:

— I wish it, but I am afraid. You will leave me alone every morning and lead your flocks to the pastures.

My little sweet one loves freedom and fears loneliness.

I said to her:

— Do you think me so cruel? My love, you shall wake with me every dawn to the bleating of the hungry sheep; you shall make ready the provisions and come with me to the fertile meadows and the green woods. You shall run in the wide fields and leap over the high rocks.

— But I fear the prick of the thorns and the sharpness of the stones.

— The thorns will open a path for you, drawing back from your feet, and the rocks will hide their sharpness with grasses when you pass. The bright butterflies of the field will play with you, the flowers of spring will give you their loveliest colors, and the birds will vie in song to win your admiration.

And when we reach our rich pasture, I shall leave the flock to my faithful dog and play for you on my pipe the melody of my love and my happiness. Then the nightingales will fall silent and listen, rapt, to the sweetest strain in the world.

— The wolf may come, wanting the lambs?

— The wolf? He will forget his hunger and his savagery before the sweetness of your smile and the tenderness of your gaze; he will crouch at your feet and be the faithful guard. And the fox will put off his malice and his cunning when he sees the purity of your spirit and the clearness of your soul, and will make brotherhood with the birds so as to be near you.

And my sweet love, pleased with my talk, said:

— And what else will you do?

— And when evening comes, I shall take your hand lest you fear the dark, and we shall return to our little hut, and it will gather us in with longing and eagerness, as the great sea opens its arms to receive the setting sun.

— I may grow tired on the way back, and the hill is far?

— Then I shall carry you in my two strong arms, and you will forget your weariness and doze on my shoulder. And I shall walk slowly, your quiet breaths coming and going as evenly as the breaths of a child worn out with tiredness, and your sweet, dreaming smile leading me home with my eyes closed.

— And when winter comes, bringing the cold and the snow?

— Then the color of the pastures will turn from green to white, and the forests will put on their spotless robes. And you will hurry to the window in the cold, my little love; I shall cut down all the forests to burn them for you, and weave from the wool of my gentle sheep garments to keep the frost from you, and press you to my broad chest, and it will warm you with the warmth of its love.

And the empty days will not grow tedious, nor the long nights, for I shall tell you the legends of the mountain and the tales of the shepherds, and you will listen intently — laughing at the fancies, tender toward the lovers, weeping at the tragedies — until drowsiness lets down your eyelids and you pillow your head on my arm, to dream of what I have told you.

— And how will the winter pass?

— Together we shall await the warm winds, and look out from the window to watch the snows melt little by little. And you will open the door with joy at the sight of a little flower lifting its head, shy and bold at once, above the thin layer of snow. And we shall pick this first flower every spring and keep it with care, and our love will blossom the whole new year through.

Oh, my happiness! My sweet little love is coming this evening to my house. And tomorrow, from dawn, our bright life together begins.