Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/252

 And once her both arms suddenly
 * Round Mary's neck she flung.

And her heart panted, and she felt
 * The words upon her tongue.

She felt them coming, but no power
 * Had she the words to smother;

And with a kind of shriek she cried,
 * "Oh Christ! you're like your Mother!'

So gentle Ellen now no more
 * Could make this sad house cheary;

And Mary's melancholy ways
 * Drove Edward wild and weary.

Lingering he rais'd his latch at eve.
 * Though tired in heart and limb:

He lov'd no other place, and yet
 * Home was no home to him.

One evening he took up a book,
 * And nothing in it read;

Then flung it down, and groaning cried,
 * Oh! Heaven! that I were dead.