Of eminent divines I own, —
Left by my father – though it irks
My patience to offer them.” And she smiles
As if necessity were unknown;
“But the truth of it is that oftenwhiles
I have wished, as I am fond of art,
To make my rooms a little smart.”
And lightly still she laughs to him,
As if to sell were a mere gay whim,
And that, to be frank, Life were indeed
To her not vinegar and gall,
But fresh and honey-like; and Need
No household skeleton at all.
IX
AT THE ALTAR-RAIL
“My bride is not coming, alas!” says the groom,
And the telegram shakes in his hand. “I own
It was hurried! We met at a dancing-room
When I went to the Cattle-Show alone,
And then, next night, where the Fountain leaps,
And the Street of the Quarter-Circle sweeps.
“Ay, she won me to ask her to be my wife —
’Twas foolish perhaps! – to forsake the ways
Of the flaring town for a farmer’s life.
She agreed. And we fixed it. Now she says:
‘It’s sweet of you, dear, to prepare me a nest,
But a swift, short, gay life suits me best.
What I really am you have never gleaned;
I had eaten the apple ere you were weaned.’”
X
IN THE NUPTIAL CHAMBER
“O that mastering tune?” And up in the bed
Like a lace-robed phantom springs the bride;
“And why?” asks the man she had that day wed,
With a start, as the band plays on outside.
“It’s the townsfolks’ cheery compliment
Because of our marriage, my Innocent.”
“O but you don’t know! ’Tis the passionate air
To which my old Love waltzed with me,
And I swore as we spun that none should share
My home, my kisses, till death, save he!
And he dominates me and thrills me through,
And it’s he I embrace while embracing you!”
XI
IN THE RESTAURANT
“But hear. If you stay, and the child be born,
It will pass as your husband’s with the rest,
While, if we fly, the teeth of scorn
Will be gleaming at us from east to west;
And the child will come as a life despised;
I feel an elopement is ill-advised!”
“O you realize not what it is, my dear,
To a woman! Daily and hourly alarms
Lest the truth should out. How can I stay here,
And nightly take him into my arms!
Come to the child no name or fame,
Let us go, and face it, and bear the shame.”
XII
AT THE DRAPER’S
“I stood at the back of the shop, my dear,
But you did not perceive me.
Well, when they deliver what you were shown
I shall know nothing of it, believe me!”
And he coughed and coughed as she paled and said,
“O, I didn’t see you come in there —
Why couldn’t you speak?” – “Well, I didn’t. I left
That you should not notice I’d been there.
“You were viewing some lovely things. ‘Soon required
For a widow, of latest fashion’;
And I knew ’twould upset you to meet the man
Who had to be cold and ashen
“And screwed in a box before they could dress you
‘In the last new note in mourning,’
As they defined it. So, not to distress you,
I left you to your adorning.”
XIII
ON THE DEATH-BED
“I’ll tell – being past all praying for —
Then promptly die.. He was out at the war,