 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
‘E-U-R-E’—in letters blurr'd
She spells. ‘Eureka!’ that's the word.
But why does little Phœbe start
As she reads on? ‘Eureka Hart!’—
His name, her husband's name; and now
The red blood flames on cheek and brow!
She stops—she quivers—glares wild-eyed
At the red woman at her side,
Who watches her with one sick gaze
Of wild entreaty and amaze:
Then she spells on—her features turn
To marble, though her bright eyes burn,
For all the bitter truth grows plain.
She spells. ‘Eureka!’ that's the word.
But why does little Phœbe start
As she reads on? ‘Eureka Hart!’—
His name, her husband's name; and now
The red blood flames on cheek and brow!
She stops—she quivers—glares wild-eyed
At the red woman at her side,
417
Of wild entreaty and amaze:
Then she spells on—her features turn
To marble, though her bright eyes burn,
For all the bitter truth grows plain.
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |