Part 13 (2/2)

Once e, dark eyes Of wonder; and in still surprise She looks full forward in her place

She looks full forward on the air Above the toold, the bloo anywhere

She feels--she knows not what she feels; It is not terror, is not fear, But there is so that reveals A presence that is near and dear

She does not let her eyes fall down, They lift against the far profound: Against the blue above the toide-winged vultures circle round

Two brown birds swie eyes swi black specks in the sky

One forward step,--the closing door Creaks out, as frightened or in pain; Her eyes are on the ground again-- Two hs one, ”my life, my all!”

Her lifted foot across the sill Sinks down,--and all things are so still You hear the orange blossoms fall

But fear comes not where duty is, And purity is peace and rest; Her cross is close upon her breast, Her two hands clasp hard hold of this

Her two hands clasp cross, book, and she Is strong in tranquil purity,-- Ay, strong as Samson when he laid His two hands forth, and bowed and prayed

One at her left, one at her right, And she between, the steps upon,-- I can but see that Syrian night, The woe, I know, andon, I see the day They came to roll the stone away

XIV

The sky is like an opal sea, The air is like the breath of kine, But oh her face is white, and she Leans faint to see a lifted sign,--

To see two hands lift up and wave To see a face so white oe, So ghastly, hollohite as though It had that hostly sign, Her fair face in her weight of hair, Is like a white dove drowning there,-- A white dove drowned in Tuscan wine

He tries to stand, to stand erect

'Tis gold, 'tis gold that holds him down!

And soul and body both must drown,-- Two ain his piteous face Is raised to her face reaching there

He prays such piteous, silent prayer As prays a dying ood to see hiasp, to try To speak His parched lips are so dry Their sight is as a living pain

I think that rich old,-- To gasp and gasp perpetual Like to this minute I have told

XV

At last the rave Just ope'd its stony lips and gave One sentence forth, then closed again

”'Tenty years last night, last night!”

His lips stillweak Were beggar's hands in sorry plight

His face upturned to hers, his lips Kept talking on, but gave no sound; His feet were cloven to the ground; Like iron hooks his finger-tips