 | Studies in verse (1865) |  |
And so in utter weariness she turned
Her patient face again upon the night
To seek some shelter till the day should come.
It chanced an ancient porter of the bank
Had seen her feeble hand upon the door,
Her evident trouble and her rainy clothes;
Who came in kindness after her, and learnt
Her name and whom she sought for. He, kind man,
Knowing some further evil of her son,
Because he could not break it in the street,
Put off her question vaguely, yet besought
That she would rest awhile, or, if she chose,
The night at his poor lodging, where his wife
Would tell her more than he could: so she went.
And here that honest couple tenderly
Softened as best they might the bitter news,
Which came in brief to this; that now ten days
Her son had not been heard of at the house,
And that another clerk had gone with him;
And there were missing monies of the bank
Not much in total—
Her patient face again upon the night
To seek some shelter till the day should come.
It chanced an ancient porter of the bank
Had seen her feeble hand upon the door,
Her evident trouble and her rainy clothes;
Who came in kindness after her, and learnt
Her name and whom she sought for. He, kind man,
Knowing some further evil of her son,
Because he could not break it in the street,
Put off her question vaguely, yet besought
That she would rest awhile, or, if she chose,
The night at his poor lodging, where his wife
Would tell her more than he could: so she went.
And here that honest couple tenderly
Softened as best they might the bitter news,
Which came in brief to this; that now ten days
52
And that another clerk had gone with him;
And there were missing monies of the bank
Not much in total—
But the widow heard
No longer, for a darkness on her brain
Swept out her world of sorrow, and her sense
Failed, and the old wife saw her slipping down
And caught her; and she nursed her senses back,
And laid her in a quiet chamber, bare
And homely, still her best one; chafed her hands,
Sat by the bed-side all the night, and heard
The low continual sobbings all night long,
So tended her till daybreak patiently:
Till the new light smote on the stricken face
Like anodyne, and then the widow slept.
No longer, for a darkness on her brain
Swept out her world of sorrow, and her sense
Failed, and the old wife saw her slipping down
And caught her; and she nursed her senses back,
And laid her in a quiet chamber, bare
And homely, still her best one; chafed her hands,
Sat by the bed-side all the night, and heard
The low continual sobbings all night long,
So tended her till daybreak patiently:
Till the new light smote on the stricken face
Like anodyne, and then the widow slept.
| Studies in verse (1865) | |