Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/187

 TEP very softly, sweet Quiet-foot, Stumble not, whisper not, smile not: By this dark ivy stoop cheek and brow. Still even thy heart! What seest thou? . . ."

"High-coifed, broad-browed, aged, suave yet grim, A large flat face, eyes keenly dim, Staring at nothing — that's me! — and yet, With a hate one could never, no, never forget . . ."

"This is my world, my garden, my home, Hither my father bade mother to come And bear me out of the dark into light, And happy I was in her tender sight.

"And then, thou frail flower, she died and went, Forgetting my pitiless banishment, And that Old Woman — an Aunt — she said, Came hither, lodged, fattened, and made her bed.

"Oh yes, thou most blessed, from Monday to Sunday, Has lived on me, preyed on me, Mrs. Grundy: Called me, 'dear Nephew'; on each of those chairs Has gloated in righteousness, heard my prayers.