Time's Laughingstocks, and Other Verses Part 3

"Whose banns were called in church to-day?" - Christ, how I wished my soul could flee!

"Where is she? O the stealthy miss,"

Still bantered they, alas for me, "To keep a wedding close as this . . ."

Ay, Fortune worked thus wantonly!

"But you are pale--you did not know?"

They archly asked, alas for me, I stammered, "Yes--some days-ago,"

While coffined clay I wished to be.

"'Twas done to please her, we surmise?"

(They spoke quite lightly in their glee) "Done by him as a fond surprise?"

I thought their words would madden me.

Her lover entered. "Where's my bird? - My bird--my flower--my picotee?

First time of asking, soon the third!"

Ah, in my grave I well may be.

To me he whispered: "Since your call--"

So spoke he then, alas for me - "I've felt for her, and righted all."

- I think of it to agony.

"She's faint to-day--tired--nothing more--"

Thus did I lie, alas for me . . .

I called her at her chamber door As one who scarce had strength to be.

No voice replied. I went within - O women! scourged the worst are we . . .

I shrieked. The others hastened in And saw the stroke there dealt on me.

There she lay--silent, breathless, dead, Stone dead she lay--wronged, sinless she! - Ghost-white the cheeks once rosy-red: Death had took her. Death took not me.

I kissed her colding face and hair, I kissed her corpse--the bride to be! - My punishment I cannot bear, But pray G.o.d NOT to pity me.

January 1904.

THE HOUSE OF HOSPITALITIES

Here we broached the Christmas barrel, Pushed up the charred log-ends; Here we sang the Christmas carol, And called in friends.

Time has tired me since we met here When the folk now dead were young, Since the viands were outset here And quaint songs sung.

And the worm has bored the viol That used to lead the tune, Rust eaten out the dial That struck night's noon.

Now no Christmas brings in neighbours, And the New Year comes unlit; Where we sang the mole now labours, And spiders knit.

Yet at midnight if here walking, When the moon sheets wall and tree, I see forms of old time talking, Who smile on me.

BEREFT

In the black winter morning No light will be struck near my eyes While the clock in the stairway is warning For five, when he used to rise.

Leave the door unbarred, The clock unwound, Make my lone bed hard - Would 'twere underground!

When the summer dawns clearly, And the appletree-tops seem alight, Who will undraw the curtain and cheerly Call out that the morning is bright?

When I tarry at market No form will cross Durnover Lea In the gathering darkness, to hark at Grey's Bridge for the pit-pat o' me.

When the supper crock's steaming, And the time is the time of his tread, I shall sit by the fire and wait dreaming In a silence as of the dead.

Leave the door unbarred, The clock unwound, Make my lone bed hard - Would 'twere underground!

1901.

JOHN AND JANE

I

He sees the world as a boisterous place Where all things bear a laughing face, And humorous scenes go hourly on, Does John.

II

They find the world a pleasant place Where all is ecstasy and grace, Where a light has risen that cannot wane, Do John and Jane.

III

They see as a palace their cottage-place, Containing a pearl of the human race, A hero, maybe, hereafter styled, Do John and Jane with a baby-child.

IV

They rate the world as a gruesome place, Where fair looks fade to a skull's grimace, - As a pilgrimage they would fain get done - Do John and Jane with their worthless son.

THE CURATE'S KINDNESS A WORKHOUSE IRONY

I

I thought they'd be strangers aroun' me, But she's to be there!