Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/57

 Passed by, and dropped their tears upon the tomb Of fair Queen Summer, buried in her bloom.

Roy left us for a time, and Helen went To make the nuptial preparations. Then, Aunt Ruth complained one day of feeling ill: Her veins ran red with fever; and the skill Of two physicians could not stem the tide. The house, that rang so late with laugh and jest, Grew ghostly with low whispered sounds: and when The Autumn day, that I had thought to be Bounding upon the billows of the sea, Came sobbing in, it found me pale and worn, Striving to keep away that unloved guest Who comes unbidden, making hearts to mourn. Through all the anxious weeks I watched beside The suff’rer’s couch, Roy was my help and stay; Others were kind, but he alone each day Brought strength and comfort, by his cheerful face, And hopeful words, that fell in that sad place Like rays of light upon a darkened way. November passed; and Winter, crisp and chill, In robes of ermine walked on plain and hill. Returning light and life dispelled the gloom That cheated Death had brought us from the tomb. Aunt Ruth was saved, and slowly getting better— Was dressed each day, and walked about the room. Then came one morning in the Eastern mail, A little white-winged birdling of a letter. I broke the seal and read,

“Maurine, my own! I hear Aunt Ruth is better, and am glad. I felt so sorry for you; and so sad To think I left you when I did—alone To bear your pain and worry, and those nights Of weary, anxious watching.

Vivian writes Your plans are changed now, and you will not sail Before the Springtime. So you’ll come and be My bridesmaid, darling! Do not say me nay. But three weeks more of girlhood left to me. Come, if you can, just two weeks from to-day, And make your preparations here. My sweet! Indeed I am not glad Aunt Ruth was ill—