 | Studies in verse (1865) |  |
And then she turned and left him where he stood,
Fled to the cottage with no word besides,
Because she could not further trust herself.
And Andrew, dazed and sorrowful, alone
Pondered awhile: then homewards, step on step,
As slowly went as the laborious team
Divides the fallows with their forward toil
Of hoof and straining shoulder. He a week
Touched not the cottage latch: and more each day
The sadness and the strangeness of the thing
Perplexed him: he had lost, utterly lost
Her love he cared for; but in wooing one
Had gained another. Lucy indeed was sweet
And gentle: in some sort he loved her too,
But not like Ruth who held his love so vile:
And Ruth would hate him more, unless he strove
To make return to Lucy, as he could,
For her devotion. Life indeed he knew
Was but the art of bending to the best
Familiar evil: he would face his doom,
And, for sheer love of Ruth, would try to take
Her council in repaying Lucy's love.
Fled to the cottage with no word besides,
Because she could not further trust herself.
And Andrew, dazed and sorrowful, alone
Pondered awhile: then homewards, step on step,
As slowly went as the laborious team
Divides the fallows with their forward toil
Of hoof and straining shoulder. He a week
Touched not the cottage latch: and more each day
The sadness and the strangeness of the thing
Perplexed him: he had lost, utterly lost
Her love he cared for; but in wooing one
Had gained another. Lucy indeed was sweet
And gentle: in some sort he loved her too,
95
And Ruth would hate him more, unless he strove
To make return to Lucy, as he could,
For her devotion. Life indeed he knew
Was but the art of bending to the best
Familiar evil: he would face his doom,
And, for sheer love of Ruth, would try to take
Her council in repaying Lucy's love.
| Studies in verse (1865) | |