The Widow

By Mellstock Lodge and Avenue      Towards her door I went,     And sunset on her window-panes      Reflected our intent.     The creeper on the gable nigh      Was fired to more than red     And when I came to halt thereby      "Bright as my joy!" I said.     Of late days it had been her aim      To meet me in the hall;     Now at my footsteps no one came;      And no one to my call.     Again I knocked; and tardily      An inner step was heard,     And I was shown her presence then      With scarce an answering word.     She met me, and but barely took      My proffered warm embrace;     Preoccupation weighed her look,      And hardened her sweet face.     "To-morrow - could you - would you call?      Make brief your present stay?     My child is ill - my one, my all! -      And can't be left to-day."     And then she turns, and gives commands      As I were out of sound,     Or were no more to her and hers      Than any neighbour round . . .     - As maid I wooed her; but one came      And coaxed her heart away,     And when in time he wedded her      I deemed her gone for aye.     He won, I lost her; and my loss      I bore I know not how;     But I do think I suffered then      Less wretchedness than now.     For Time, in taking him, had oped      An unexpected door     Of bliss for me, which grew to seem      Far surer than before . . .     Her word is steadfast, and I know      That plighted firm are we:     But she has caught new love-calls since      She smiled as maid on me!