 | Eclogues and monodramas |  |
But James was long in fever from his fall,
And him his mother tended. But mischance
Brought in his coat the letter to her hand,
Last writ of Mary, when they brought him in
Helpless and stunned. She read it, and long days
The mother watched him, scheming to unweave
The love this letter taught. Some comfort this,
His illness, bad in most, was good in this
That she might plot unthwarted: and she held,
All means were holy and a mother's right
To stave her son from this perpetual shame
Of mating low: for all her thought was blind
And warped with narrow county pride; and chief
She feared her spinster sisters in their hall
Lined with the canvas faces of past squires,—
Great squires, each in his narrow walk supreme,
Lords of the hind and acres at their gate,
They drank, bred, hunted their allotted time,
Then gave the parish-church one hatchment more.
And him his mother tended. But mischance
91
Last writ of Mary, when they brought him in
Helpless and stunned. She read it, and long days
The mother watched him, scheming to unweave
The love this letter taught. Some comfort this,
His illness, bad in most, was good in this
That she might plot unthwarted: and she held,
All means were holy and a mother's right
To stave her son from this perpetual shame
Of mating low: for all her thought was blind
And warped with narrow county pride; and chief
She feared her spinster sisters in their hall
Lined with the canvas faces of past squires,—
Great squires, each in his narrow walk supreme,
Lords of the hind and acres at their gate,
They drank, bred, hunted their allotted time,
Then gave the parish-church one hatchment more.
| Eclogues and monodramas | |