Page:Reuben and other poems.pdf/39

 Amid those broad boughs more. The storms are done, The winter past, each other last year’s growth Replenish’d is, and hidden seed finds birth. Life warm and closely laps it—but the tree Is dead, and dead will lie:

So was it now With Reuben. Comfort from far off and near Pour’d on him. Sarah’s tale, by alter’d lips In altering ears now told, to eager aid Arous’d the oft unready, ever real Kindliness of an English countryside. The poorer neighbours, this with food, and that With fuel, each one with the shy excuse, “Wishing to spare you toil and trouble,” came; And what more rescue lay within their reach The rest procured. Money indeed none dared To offer, but the agent, a hard man, Whose master was abroad, was given cause To stay the seizure of the goods until Forth from that dwelling to her last should fare Their sometime mistress. And a place for him, A home and tendance, long as he should need, Soon as he wish’d them, waited the old man— Sarah’s; the unwonted stirring of whose heart Her wonted reason troubled, and perhaps Deceiv’d. But Reuben’s mind was steady. “No: I thank ye kindly, but the House is best. We’d only fret each other. I’ve paid rates