Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/110

 HEN Susan's work was done, she would sit, With one fat guttering candle lit, And window opened wide to win The sweet night air to enter in. There, with a thumb to keep her place, She would read, with stern and wrinkled face, Her mild eyes gliding very slow Across the letters to and fro, While wagged the guttering candle flame In the wind that through the window came. And sometimes in the silence she Would mumble a sentence audibly, Or shake her head as if to say, "You silly souls, to act this way!" And never a sound from night I would hear. Unless some far-off cock crowed clear; Or her old shuffling thumb should turn Another page; and rapt and stern, Through her great glasses bent on me, She would glance into reality; And shake her round old silvery head, With — "You! — I thought you was in bed!"— Only to tilt her book again, And rooted in Romance remain.