'I think--that we need not think, sweet mother--the time is not yet,
He is as the wraith of a wraith, and a far off shadow now--
--But if you have heard he is dead?' 'Not that?' 'Then let me forget.'


IV.

'The sun is off the south window, draw back the curtain, my child.'
'But tell it, mother.' 'Answer you first what it is that you see.'
'The lambs on the mountain slope, and the crevice with blue ice piled.'
'Nearer.'--'But, mother!' 'Nearer!' 'My heifer she's lowing to me.'


V.

'Nearer.' 'Nothing, sweet mother, O yes, for one sits in the bower.
Black the clusters hang out from the vine about his snow-white head,
And the scarlet leaves, where my Ronald leaned.' 'Only one half hour--
Laura'--'O mother, my mother dear, all known though nothing said.


VI.

O it breaks my heart, the face dejected that looks not on us,
A beautiful face--I remember now, though long I forgot.'
'Ay and I loved it. I love him to-day, and to see him thus!
Saying "I go if she bids it, for work her woe--I will not."


VII.