 | Ghost-bereft |  |
118
EXPECTATION
Fleet wheels had whirled for us, deep hedge-rows threading,Till where, down labyrinthine lanes enfolden,
The grey, green-mantled church stood, half withholden
From passing eyes by elms full-fledged for shedding
Midsummer shade, noon-shrunken, softly spreading
O'er swarded path a dappled pavement, golden
And beryl-flecked, to a door, whose dusk-arch olden
Let glimpse in hesitant gleams, the sill's gloom dreading.
119
Hung round the gate, from devious ways diverted;
Shawled crone's slow halt and girl's light foot one goal
Had found thereby. Grand weather for whose wedding?
Methought: and straight a daw from ivied steading
Swooped startled, as a bell began to—toll.
| Ghost-bereft | |