Page:Reuben and other poems.pdf/27

 A well-won recreation, chat and cheer, And the delight of hinted self-applause Loudly re-echoing round. Till, soon, as well Of Sarah’s as of Mercy’s many trials Word ran abroad: of Reuben’s vexing ways, His years and all their burdens (he was nigh His dotage, any one could see): his sloth, Clumsiness, closeness and stupidity: How he spent hours outside—and just as well— Indoors he sat as mum as any corpse. . .” Poor soul, she meant no malice. Watch like hers Body and mind o’er-racks, and if Care’s breath Can curdle in the heart at times even Love, How much more like is work-day Charity So to forswear itself! By this grey day, Inexorable, of Destiny oppress’d, Tir’d with this tireless tempest of sore woe (Unearn’d, and seen in secret as a wrong), She, being for strength and weakness, what she was, Must rail; and rail’d on Reuben, since upon The felt cause of her burden, unconfess’d But without recognition recognized— On God, she dared not rail.

At home, the while, Such halcyon noons or blessed gloamings through, Mercy and Reuben might together be Alone once more. Upon those precious hours,