Wessex Poems and Other Verses: The Slow Nature

(AN INCIDENT OF FROOM VALLEY)

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"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 neighbour'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.
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