"THY husband -- poor, poor Heart! -- is dead -- Dead, out by Moreford Rise; A bull escaped the barton-shed, Gored him, and there he lies!" -- "Ha, ha -- go away! 'Tis a tale, methink, Thou joker Kit!" laughed she. "I've known thee many a year, Kit Twink, And ever hast thou fooled me!" -- "But, Mistress Damon -- I can swear Thy goodman John is dead! And soon th'lt hear their feet who bear His body to his bed." So unwontedly sad was the merry man's face -- That face which had long deceived -- That she gazed and gazed; and then could trace The truth there; and she believed. She laid a hand on the dresser-ledge, And scanned far Egdon-side; And stood; and you heard the wind-swept sedge And the rippling Froom; till she cried: "O my chamber's untidied, unmade my bed, Though the day has begun to wear! 'What a slovenly hussif!' it will be said, When they all go up my stair!" She disappeared; and the joker stood Depressed by his neighbor's doom, And amazed that a wife struck to widowhood Thought first of her unkempt room. But a fortnight thence she could take no food, And she pined in a slow decay; While Kit soon lost his mournful mood And laughed in his ancient way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OF THE YOUNG LADY MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW by JOHN DRYDEN DISCONTENTS IN DEVON by ROBERT HERRICK WHERE LIES THE LAND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH FOR THE MASTER'S SAKE by MINNIE MASON BEEBE THE CONVERSION by RALPH WILHELM BERGENGREN VALUATION by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON RECOGNITION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: SORCERY by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |