Page:Captain Craig; a book of poems.djvu/150

136 And they had buried her that afternoon, Under the tight-screwed lid of a long box, Under the earth, under the leaves and snow.

Look where she would, feed conscience how she might, There was but one way now for Damaris— One straight way that was hers, hers to defend, At hand, imperious. But the nearness of it, The flesh-bewildering simplicity, And the plain strangeness of it, thrilled again That wretched little quivering single string Which yielded not, but held her to the place Where now for five triumphant years had slept The flameless dust of Argan.—He was gone, The good man she had married long ago; And she had lived, and living she had learned, And surely there was nothing to regret: Much happiness had been for each of them, And they had been like lovers to the last: And after that, and long, long after that, Her tears had washed out more of widowed grief Than smiles had ever told of other joy.— But could she, looking back, find anything That should return to her in the new time, And with relentless magic uncreate