The Musical Box

Lifelong to be     Seemed the fair colour of the time;     That there was standing shadowed near     A spirit who sang to the gentle chime     Of the self-struck notes, I did not hear,      I did not see.      Thus did it sing     To the mindless lyre that played indoors     As she came to listen for me without:     "O value what the nonce outpours -     This best of life - that shines about      Your welcoming!"      I had slowed along     After the torrid hours were done,     Though still the posts and walls and road     Flung back their sense of the hot-faced sun,     And had walked by Stourside Mill, where broad      Stream-lilies throng.      And I descried     The dusky house that stood apart,     And her, white-muslined, waiting there     In the porch with high-expectant heart,     While still the thin mechanic air      Went on inside.      At whiles would flit     Swart bats, whose wings, be-webbed and tanned,     Whirred like the wheels of ancient clocks:     She laughed a hailing as she scanned     Me in the gloom, the tuneful box      Intoning it.      Lifelong to be     I thought it. That there watched hard by     A spirit who sang to the indoor tune,     "O make the most of what is nigh!"     I did not hear in my dull soul-swoon -      I did not see.