The Pedlar's Song

I tramped among the townward throng             A sultry summer's morn:         They mocked me loud, they mocked me long,             They laughed my pack to scorn.         But a likely pedlar holds his peace             Until the reckoning's told:--         Merrily I to market went, tho' songs were all my gold.         At weary noon I left the town,             I left the highway straight,         I climbed the silent, sunlit down             And stood by a castle gate.         Never yet was a house too high             When the pedlar's heart was bold:--         Merrily I to market went, tho' songs were all my gold.         A lady leaned from her window there             And asked my wares to see;         Her voice made rich the summer air,             Richer my soul in me.         She gave me only four little words,             Words of a language old:--         Merrily I from market came, for all my songs were sold.