("Vengeance of Jenny's case! Fie on her! Never name her, child!" - MRS. QUICKLY) DAY-LONG the market wains, In faded rows creak out the lanes, And past that house she knew; Blue, scarlet flowers without stint, Crowd the thin yard. The tang of mint, Clings to one's skirts the whole day through. The villagers here and there Remember yet that she was fair; Sudden, in April's chill, Her mother hears her step about, And turns, and lo, the lilacs out, But all the house grown dully still! A child's mug, prinked with gold, A ribbon with its rose turned old, Gray hymns, wrapped all in lawn -- She keeps them there in cupboard fast, And wonders dimly o'er the last, How she who sang them, could have gone. Her father, his work done, And sheds made fast at set of sun, Dumb in the household stir, Looks past his proper daughters there, Where sits his wife, dumb in her chair, And knows they both think but of her. The youngest of the girls, Shy-bosomed thing of combs and curls, Shaken dimly to and fro, Stares in her glass, as if that she, That fair face in her own might see, That star which set so long ago. And thus the days have gone, And thus shall go from dawn to dawn -- This water lapping by, Black wharf, sad town, they shall not know, Or this stark woman drifting slow -- Who might be you, who might be I. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOURNAMENT by SIDNEY LANIER FORECLOSURE by STERLING ALLEN BROWN OLNEY HYMNS: 49. JOY AND PEACE IN BELIEVING by WILLIAM COWPER THE PROPHECY OF SAMUEL SEWALL by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER PREFACE TO ERINNA'S POEMS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON AN EPITAPH ON A DUTCH CAPTAIN by PHILIP AYRES |