Page:Reuben and other poems.pdf/32

 He stopped, Ey’d him suspiciously and shambled off. The doctor sigh’d. “It seems her body will Outlive his mind. He was a fine man once.”

Some weeks ere Christmas, a prolong’d west wind Brought constant rain; till, three days ere the feast, Round to the north it shifted, and keen frost Turn’d into slides of ice the watery roads, While o’er the downs an ominous mass’d wall Bulged up, of loose grey cloud. Then the wind ceased, The frost held, and the snow began. Five days, Five muffled days, five still and soundless nights, The soft snow fell, and stay’d. It hush’d the sea, The virginal white land inviolate set, And rear’d ’twixt man and man frail barriers That firm and staunchly held. All round the house No sight, no sense, but of unending snow. Doctor nor friend along those treacherous tracks And thro’ that blinding daze could come. Instead Came Peace; instead, the blessed face of Death With tender sunset glow at last illum’d The long grey gloom of Dying. Mercy’s hour Drew near, but for five days before she died Suffering released her, and once more she lived.

There, in a sacred quietude enwrapt, Tranquil she lay within Death’s gentle arms; Already from the ills of Life remote,