The cumbrous bind-weed, with its wreaths and bells, And dragged them to the earth. Ere this an hour Then, like a blast that dies away self-stilled, And, looking round, I saw the corner stones, Even at her threshold. Deeper shadows fell From these tall elms; the cottage-clock struck eight; I turned, and saw her distant a few steps. Her face was pale and thin, her figure too To a kind master on a distant farm You look at me, and you have cause; to-day Only, that what I seek I cannot find; And so I waste my time: for I am changed; And to myself,' said she, 'have done much wrong And to this helpless infant. I have slept Weeping, and weeping have I waked; my tears Have flowed as if my body were not such As others are; and I could never die. But I am now in mind and in my heart More easy; and I hope,' said she, that Heaven Will give me patience to endure the things Which I behold at home.' It would have grieved Your very soul to see her; Sir, I feel The story linger in my heart: I fear To that poor Woman: so familiarly Do I perceive her manner, and her look, And to myself I seem to muse on One By sorrow laid asleep, or borne away; A human being destined to awake To human life, or something very near To human life, when he shall come again For whom she suffered. Yes, it would have grieved Your very soul to see her: evermore Her eyelids drooped, her eyes were downward cast; And, when she at her table gave me food, She did not look at me. Her voice was low, Her body was subdued. In every act Pertaining to her house affairs, appeared The careless stillness of a thinking mind I knew not how, and hardly whence they came. "Ere my departure to her care I gave, In God's good love, and seek his help by prayer. "I returned, And took my rounds along this road again I found her sad and drooping; she had learned |