Page:Reuben and other poems.pdf/41

 He stoop’d, and ’twixt his hands the nestling head Held for a moment, for a moment gazed In the warm eager eyes; then took his gun, New-primed, and once more to the shed they went, Trusting and trusted, two old comrades. There He shot him through the heart; nor did his hand Tremble, nor was there in his eye one tear Then, or thereafter, digging the small grave Under the sycamore trees.

With slow long toil Thro’ the remainder daylight, and thro’ much Of the long dark, within the silent house He work’d till all was orderly and clean, Ready for stranger-hands. Midnight had struck Ere all was done; and, all being duly done, He lock’d each well-known door behind him, left The hollow and went forth into the night.

There was no moon. The great black sky was strown With stars innumerable; the quiet air Brought up the ceaseless sighing of the sea. Out on the darkling promontory he came, Came to the blank cliff-edge, and there stood still, Homeless, alone, amid a night twofold.