| "AND will you cut a stone for him, | |
| To set above his head? | |
| And will you cut a stone for him— | |
| A stone for him?" she said. | |
| |
| Three days before, a splintered rock | 5 |
| Had struck her lover dead— | |
| Had struck him in the quarry dead, | |
| Where, careless of the warning call, | |
| He loitered, while the shot was fired— | |
| A lively stripling, brave and tall, | 10 |
| And sure of all his heart desired... | |
| A flash, a shock, | |
| A rumbling fall... | |
| And, broken 'neath the broken rock, | |
| A lifeless heap, with face of clay; | 15 |
| And still as any stone he lay, | |
| With eyes that saw the end of all. | |
| |
| I went to break the news to her; | |
| And I could hear my own heart beat | |
| With dread of what my lips might say | 20 |
| But, some poor fool had sped before; | |
| And flinging wide her father's door, | |
| Had blurted out the news to her, | |
| Had struck her lover dead for her, | |
| Had struck the girl's heart dead in her, | 25 |
| Had struck life, lifeless, at a word, | |
| And dropped it at her feet: | |
| Then hurried on his witless way, | |
| Scarce knowing she had heard. | |
| |
| And when I came, she stood, alone | 30 |
| A woman, turned to stone: | |
| And, though no word at all she said, | |
| I knew that all was known. | |
| |
| Because her heart was dead, | |
| She did not sigh nor moan, | 35 |
| His mother wept: | |
| She could not weep. | |
| Her lover slept: | |
| She could not sleep. | |
| Three days, three nights, | 40 |
| She did not stir: | |
| Three days, three nights, | |
| Were one to her, | |
| Who never closed her eyes | |
| From sunset to sunrise, | 45 |
| From dawn to evenfall: | |
| Her tearless, staring eyes, | |
| That seeing naught, saw all. | |
| |
| The fourth night when I came from work, | |
| I found her at my door. | 50 |
| "And will you cut a stone for him?" | |
| She said: and spoke no more: | |
| But followed me, as I went in, | |
| And sank upon a chair; | |
| And fixed her grey eyes on my face, | 55 |
| With still, unseeing stare. | |
| And, as she waited patiently, | |
| I could not bear to feel | |
| Those still, grey eyes that followed me, | |
| Those eyes that plucked the heart from me, | 60 |
| Those eyes that sucked the breath from me | |
| And curdled the warm blood in me, | |
| Those eyes that cut me to the bone, | |
| And pierced my marrow like cold steel. | |
| |
| And so I rose, and sought a stone; | 65 |
| And cut it, smooth and square: | |
| And, as I worked, she sat and watched, | |
| Beside me, in her chair. | |
| Night after night, by candlelight, | |
| I cut her lover's name: | 70 |
| Night after night, so still and white, | |
| And like a ghost she came; | |
| And sat beside me in her chair; | |
| And watched with eyes aflame. | |
| |
| She eyed each stroke; | 75 |
| And hardly stirred: | |
| She never spoke | |
| A single word: | |
| And not a sound or murmur broke | |
| The quiet, save the mallet-stroke. | 80 |
| |
| With still eyes ever on my hands, | |
| With eyes that seemed to burn my hands, | |
| My wincing, overwearied hands, | |
| She watched, with bloodless lips apart, | |
| And silent, indrawn breath: | 85 |
| And every stroke my chisel cut, | |
| Death cut still deeper in her heart: | |
| The two of us were chiselling, | |
| Together, I and death. | |
| |
| And when at length the job was done, | 90 |
| And I had laid the mallet by, | |
| As if, at last, her peace were won, | |
| She breathed his name; and, with a sigh, | |
| Passed slowly through the open door: | |
| And never crossed my threshold more. | 95 |
| |
| Next night I laboured late, alone, | |
| To cut her name upon the stone. | |
