Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (18331908). A Victorian Anthology, 18371895. 1895. |
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Her Pity |
| Philip Bourke Marston (185087) |
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THIS is the room to which she came that day, | |
Came when the dusk was falling cold and gray, | |
Came with soft step, in delicate array, | |
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And sat beside me in the firelight there; | |
And, like a rose of perfume rich and rare, | 5 |
Thrilld with her sweetness the environing air. | |
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We heard the grind of traffic in the street, | |
The clamorous calls, the beat of passing feet, | |
The wail of bells that in the twilight meet. | |
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Then I knelt down, and dard to touch her hand, | 10 |
Those slender fingers, and the shining band | |
Of happy gold wherewith her wrist was spannd. | |
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Her radiant beauty made my heart rejoice; | |
And then she spoke, and her low, pitying voice | |
Was like the soft, pathetic, tender noise | 15 |
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Of winds that come before a summer rain: | |
Once leapd the blood in every clamorous vein; | |
Once leapd my heart, then, dumb, stood still again. | |
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