And  shook   their   tattered  duds  with

drunken  shout.
For  he,  with  strange,  wild  recklessness

would  stir
All  weird  and  eerie  thoughts  to  feed

his  mood,
And  •  nought    too    grim    or  gruesome

seemed  for  him  ;
Maddened,    that    night,     by    memory

of  her,
He  shrank   from    all    pure  springs  of

bright  or  good.
So  it  went  on  until  the  morning  broke  ;
And  when  the  morning  broke  he  was

alone,
The  household  all  had  vanished  from

the  Hall
Atthestrange  coming  of  thebeggarfolk,
Andnowagainhefelthis  heart  like  stone.
One  only  word  he  spake  :  "  O  misery  !
Never  to  see  her,  hear  her  nevermore.
No   hope  of   change — oh   pitiful   and

strange !
And  she  went  drifting  on  that  sunless  sea.
And  she  lies  wrecked  upon  that  silent

shore !


"  Dead !    and   this    wrong    unrighted,

unrepented !
Dead!      and     to     me     this     horrible

bequest !.
Dead!    and    my  faith,   too,  dying    in

her  death  !
Mother,    O    mother !  —  if   you    had

relented !
But   now  there   is  no  joy  for  me  or

rest !  "

And  at   the  morning's   dawn  he  rose

and  went
All    through    the    house,    and    every

window  barred,
And  every  door  he  locked  on  every  floor.
And  with  the  keys  his  weary  way  he

bent
Along   the   mountain  pathway,  rough

and  hard.
Faintly  the  sunshine  tipped  the  clouds

with  red,
Faintly  the  spring-birds  fluttered  into

song.
The  mountain  stream  rippled  as  in  a

dream.
And  dream-like  in  the  mist  the  sleek

kine  fed
On    the   low   meadows,  moving  slow

along.
And  slow  and  weary  up  the  glen  he

passed,
Weary  and  slow  amid  the  dim,  slant

light.
Until  he  stood  beside  the  old  pine- wood
Above  the  red  crag  which  its  shadow

cast
O'er   the   dark  pool,  and  water-lilies

white.
