Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/307

Rh Until this happened. God knows best, we say, But hoarsely. When the fever took him first, Just after I had writ to you in France, They tell me Lady Waldemar mixed drinks And counted grains, like any salaried nurse, Excepting that she wept too. Then Lord Howe, You’re right about Lord Howe! Lord Howe’s a trump; And yet, with such in his hand, a man like Leigh May lose, as he does. There’s an end to all,— Yes, even this letter, through the second sheet May find you doubtful. Write a word for Kate: Even now she reads my letters like a wife, And if she sees her name, I’ll see her smile, And share the luck. So, bless you, friend of two! I will not ask you what your feeling is At Florence with my pictures. I can hear Your heart a-flutter over the snow-hills; And, just to pace the Pitti with you once, I’d give a half-hour of to-morrow’s walk With Kate. . I think so. Vincent Carrington.’

The noon was hot; the air scorched like the sun, And was shut out. The closed persiani threw Their long-scored shadows on my villa-floor, And interlined the golden atmosphere Straight, still,—across the pictures on the wall The statuette on the console, (of young Love And Psyche made one marble by a kiss) The low couch where I leaned, the table near, The vase of lilies, Marian pulled last night,