 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
240
FEUDISTS
Along the mountain road she came,
In dingy gown and heavy shoes;
Above her broke the redbud's flame,
And oak and maple flushed with hues;
And everywhere was boisterous news
Of Spring who led o'er hills and streams
The white invasion of her dreams.
In dingy gown and heavy shoes;
Above her broke the redbud's flame,
And oak and maple flushed with hues;
And everywhere was boisterous news
Of Spring who led o'er hills and streams
The white invasion of her dreams.
Upon a rock beside the way
She sat, so still, so dim of tone—
Of such an unobtrusive gray—
You'd thought her portion of the stone,
Save for her eyes, where fever shone,
Beneath the bonnet, frayed and torn,
And pinned together with a thorn.
She sat, so still, so dim of tone—
Of such an unobtrusive gray—
You'd thought her portion of the stone,
Save for her eyes, where fever shone,
Beneath the bonnet, frayed and torn,
And pinned together with a thorn.
Wrapped in a faded shawl she bore
A child, so tiny and so wan
One marveled how a child so poor,
So desolate and small and drawn,
Could live.—Or had it died at dawn?—
So heedless, so regardless she
Who never even looked to see.
A child, so tiny and so wan
One marveled how a child so poor,
So desolate and small and drawn,
Could live.—Or had it died at dawn?—
So heedless, so regardless she
Who never even looked to see.
And all around her was carouse
Of buds and birds and blooms and bees;
And Heaven, from under azure brows,
Bent on the world a look of peace:
But she—she saw not one of these—
Nothing of Earth's great joy divine,
Or, if she saw, she gave no sign.
Of buds and birds and blooms and bees;
241
Bent on the world a look of peace:
But she—she saw not one of these—
Nothing of Earth's great joy divine,
Or, if she saw, she gave no sign.
Her attitude of mind refused
To be distracted. Nature glowed:
Above her head the wild bee cruised:
Leaves whispered: dogwood on her snowed:
The very tree above her flowed
With wild-bird music: and the brook
Kept calling her to come and look.
To be distracted. Nature glowed:
Above her head the wild bee cruised:
Leaves whispered: dogwood on her snowed:
The very tree above her flowed
With wild-bird music: and the brook
Kept calling her to come and look.
But she—she saw not, neither heard,
Watching the road in furtive wise.—
Once only, when it seemed a bird,
Far-off, called shrilly, in her eyes
A startled look came—fear, surmise,
That raised her swift, alert and still,
Listening ... for what upon the hill?—
Watching the road in furtive wise.—
Once only, when it seemed a bird,
Far-off, called shrilly, in her eyes
A startled look came—fear, surmise,
That raised her swift, alert and still,
Listening ... for what upon the hill?—
A shot: wild hoofs: that rapidly
Neared and tore past her, standing dumb,
Tense-drawn in waiting misery,
As if she felt Disaster come
Galloping, instead of—only some
Strange, riderless horse, that made her weak
With dread and mad desire—to shriek.
Neared and tore past her, standing dumb,
Tense-drawn in waiting misery,
As if she felt Disaster come
Galloping, instead of—only some
Strange, riderless horse, that made her weak
With dread and mad desire—to shriek.
Then down the mountain, grim and tall,
A man came: he, her fear and bliss:
A rifle on his arm and all
Fierce passions in his face.—No kiss
Was his or greeting: only this—
He took the child, that wailed: and they
Went swiftly down the mountain way.
A man came: he, her fear and bliss:
242
Fierce passions in his face.—No kiss
Was his or greeting: only this—
He took the child, that wailed: and they
Went swiftly down the mountain way.
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |