Thomas Hardy - News for Her Mother lyrics

I   One mile more is   Where your door is    Mother mine! -   Harvest's coming,   Mills are strumming,    Apples fine, And the cider made to-year will be as wine. II   Yet, not viewing   What's a-doing    Here around   Is it thrills me,   And so fills me    That I bound Like a ball or leaf or lamb along the ground. III   Tremble not now   At your lot now,    Silly soul!   Hosts have sped them   Quick to wed them,    Great and small, Since the first two sighing half-hearts made a whole. IV   Yet I wonder,   Will it sunder    Her from me?   Will she guess that   I said "Yes,"—that    His I'd be, Ere I thought she might not see him as I see! V   Old brown gable,   Granary, stable,    Here you are!   O my mother,   Can another    Ever bar Mine from thy heart, make thy nearness seem afar?