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diff --git a/41468.txt b/41468.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5f7cbde..0000000 --- a/41468.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3003 +0,0 @@ - THE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREET - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: The Widow in the Bye Street -Author: John Masefield -Release Date: November 23, 2012 [EBook #41468] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREET -*** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - - THE WIDOW IN THE - BYE STREET - - - BY - JOHN MASEFIELD - - - - LONDON - SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD. - 3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI - MCMXII - - - - - _Entered at the Library of Congress, Washington, U.S.A._ - _All rights reserved_ - - - - _Second Thousand_ - - - - - TO - MY WIFE - - - - - I - - -Down Bye Street, in a little Shropshire town, -There lived a widow with her only son: -She had no wealth nor title to renown, -Nor any joyous hours, never one. -She rose from ragged mattress before sun -And stitched all day until her eyes were red, -And had to stitch, because her man was dead. - -Sometimes she fell asleep, she stitched so hard, -Letting the linen fall upon the floor; -And hungry cats would steal in from the yard, -And mangy chickens pecked about the door -Craning their necks so ragged and so sore -To search the room for bread-crumbs, or for mouse, -But they got nothing in the widow's house. - -Mostly she made her bread by hemming shrouds -For one rich undertaker in the High Street, -Who used to pray that folks might die in crowds -And that their friends might pay to let them lie sweet; -And when one died the widow in the Bye Street -Stitched night and day to give the worm his dole. -The dead were better dressed than that poor soul. - -Her little son was all her life's delight, -For in his little features she could find -A glimpse of that dead husband out of sight, -Where out of sight is never out of mind. -And so she stitched till she was nearly blind, -Or till the tallow candle end was done, -To get a living for her little son. - -Her love for him being such she would not rest, -It was a want which ate her out and in, -Another hunger in her withered breast -Pressing her woman's bones against the skin. -To make him plump she starved her body thin. -And he, he ate the food, and never knew, -He laughed and played as little children do. - -When there was little sickness in the place -She took what God would send, and what God sent -Never brought any colour to her face -Nor life into her footsteps when she went -Going, she trembled always withered and bent -For all went to her son, always the same, -He was first served whatever blessing came. - -Sometimes she wandered out to gather sticks, -For it was bitter cold there when it snowed. -And she stole hay out of the farmer's ricks -For bands to wrap her feet in while she sewed, -And when her feet were warm and the grate glowed -She hugged her little son, her heart's desire, -With 'Jimmy, ain't it snug beside the fire?' - -So years went on till Jimmy was a lad -And went to work as poor lads have to do, -And then the widow's loving heart was glad -To know that all the pains she had gone through -And all the years of putting on the screw, -Down to the sharpest turn a mortal can, -Had borne their fruit, and made her child a man. - -He got a job at working on the line -Tipping the earth down, trolly after truck, -From daylight till the evening, wet or fine, -With arms all red from wallowing in the muck, -And spitting, as the trolly tipped, for luck, -And singing 'Binger' as he swung the pick -Because the red blood ran in him so quick. - -So there was bacon then, at night, for supper -In Bye Street there, where he and mother stay; -And boots they had, not leaky in the upper, -And room rent ready on the settling day; -And beer for poor old mother, worn and grey, -And fire in frost; and in the widow's eyes -It seemed the Lord had made earth paradise. - -And there they sat of evenings after dark -Singing their song of 'Binger,' he and she, -Her poor old cackle made the mongrels bark -And 'You sing Binger, mother,' carols he; -'By crimes, but that's a good song, that her be': -And then they slept there in the room they shared, -And all the time fate had his end prepared. - -One thing alone made life not perfect sweet: -The mother's daily fear of what would come -When woman and her lovely boy should meet, -When the new wife would break up the old home. -Fear of that unborn evil struck her dumb, -And when her darling and a woman met, -She shook and prayed, 'Not her, O God; not yet.' - -'Not yet, dear God, my Jimmy go from me.' -Then she would subtly question with her son. -'Not very handsome, I don't think her be?' -'God help the man who marries such an one.' -Her red eyes peered to spy the mischief done. -She took great care to keep the girls away, -And all her trouble made him easier prey. - -There was a woman out at Plaister's End, -Light of her body, fifty to the pound, -A copper coin for any man to spend, -Lovely to look on when the wits were drowned. -Her husband's skeleton was never found, -It lay among the rocks at Glydyr Mor -Where he drank poison finding her a whore. - -She was not native there, for she belonged -Out Milford way, or Swansea; no one knew. -She had the piteous look of someone wronged, -'Anna,' her name, a widow, last of Triw. -She had lived at Plaister's End a year or two; -At Callow's cottage, renting half an acre; -She was a hen-wife and a perfume-maker. - -Secret she was; she lived in reputation; -But secret unseen threads went floating out: -Her smile, her voice, her face, were all temptation, -All subtle flies to trouble man the trout; -Man to entice, entrap, entangle, flout... -To take and spoil, and then to cast aside: -Gain without giving was the craft she plied. - -And she complained, poor lonely widowed soul, -How no one cared, and men were rutters all; -While true love is an ever-burning goal -Burning the brighter as the shadows fall. -And all love's dogs went hunting at the call, -Married or not she took them by the brain, -Sucked at their hearts and tossed them back again. - -Like the straw fires lit on Saint John's Eve, -She burned and dwindled in her fickle heart; -For if she wept when Harry took his leave, -Her tears were lures to beckon Bob to start. -And if, while loving Bob, a tinker's cart -Came by, she opened window with a smile -And gave the tinker hints to wait a while. - -She passed for pure; but, years before, in Wales, -Living at Mountain Ash with different men, -Her less discretion had inspired tales -Of certain things she did, and how, and when. -Those seven years of youth; we are frantic then. -She had been frantic in her years of youth, -The tales were not more evil than the truth. - -She had two children as the fruits of trade -Though she drank bitter herbs to kill the curse, -Both of them sons, and one she overlaid, -The other one the parish had to nurse. -Now she grew plump with money in her purse, -Passing for pure a hundred miles, I guess, -From where her little son wore workhouse dress. - -There with the Union boys he came and went, -A parish bastard fed on bread and tea, -Wearing a bright tin badge in furthest Gwent, -And no one knowing who his folk could be. -His mother never knew his new name: she,-- -She touched the lust of those who served her turn, -And chief among her men was Shepherd Ern. - -A moody, treacherous man of bawdy mind, -Married to that mild girl from Ercall Hill, -Whose gentle goodness made him more inclined -To hotter sauces sharper on the bill. -The new lust gives the lecher the new thrill, -The new wine scratches as it slips the throat, -The new flag is so bright by the old boat. - -Ern was her man to buy her bread and meat, -Half of his weekly wage was hers to spend, -She used to mock 'How is your wife, my sweet?' -Or wail, 'O, Ernie, how is this to end?' -Or coo, 'My Ernie is without a friend, -She cannot understand my precious life,' -And Ernie would go home and beat his wife. - -So the four souls are ranged, the chess-board set, -The dark, invisible hand of secret Fate -Brought it to come to being that they met -After so many years of lying in wait. -While we least think it he prepares his Mate. -Mate, and the King's pawn played, it never ceases -Though all the earth is dust of taken pieces. - - - - - II - - -October Fair-time is the time for fun, -For all the street is hurdled into rows -Of pens of heifers blinking at the sun, -And Lemster sheep which pant and seem to doze, -And stalls of hardbake and galanty shows, -And cheapjacks smashing crocks, and trumpets blowing, -And the loud organ of the horses going. - -There you can buy blue ribbons for your girl -Or take her in a swing-boat tossing high, -Or hold her fast when all the horses whirl -Round to the steam pipe whanging at the sky, -Or stand her cockshies at the cocoa-shy, -Or buy her brooches with her name in red, -Or Queen Victoria done in gingerbread. - -Then there are rifle shots at tossing balls, -'And if you hit you get a good cigar.' -And strength-whackers for lads to lamm with mauls, -And Cheshire cheeses on a greasy spar. -The country folk flock in from near and far, -Women and men, like blow-flies to the roast, -All love the fair; but Anna loved it most. - -Anna was all agog to see the fair; -She made Ern promise to be there to meet her, -To arm her round to all the pleasures there, -And buy her ribbons for her neck, and treat her, -So that no woman at the fair should beat her -In having pleasure at a man's expense. -She planned to meet him at the chapel fence. - -So Ernie went; and Jimmy took his mother, -Dressed in her finest with a Monmouth shawl, -And there was such a crowd she thought she'd smother, -And O, she loved a pep'mint above all. -Clash go the crockeries where the cheapjacks bawl, -Baa go the sheep, thud goes the waxwork's drum, -And Ernie cursed for Anna hadn't come. - -He hunted for her up and down the place, -Raging and snapping like a working brew. -'If you're with someone else I'll smash his face, -And when I've done for him I'll go for you.' -He bought no fairings as he'd vowed to do -For his poor little children back at home -Stuck at the glass 'to see till father come.' - -Not finding her, he went into an inn, -Busy with ringing till and scratching matches. -Where thirsty drovers mingled stout with gin -And three or four Welsh herds were singing catches. -The swing-doors clattered, letting in in snatches -The noises of the fair, now low, now loud. -Ern called for beer and glowered at the crowd. - -While he was glowering at his drinking there -In came the gipsy Bessie, hawking toys; -A bold-eyed strapping harlot with black hair, -One of the tribe which camped at Shepherd's Bois. -She lured him out of inn into the noise -Of the steam-organ where the horses spun, -And so the end of all things was begun. - -Newness in lust, always the old in love. -'Put up your toys,' he said, 'and come along, -We'll have a turn of swing-boats up above, -And see the murder when they strike the gong.' -'Don't 'ee,' she giggled. 'My, but ain't you strong. -And where's your proper girl? You don't know me.' -'I do.' 'You don't.' 'Why, then, I will,' said he. - -Anna was late because the cart which drove her -Called for her late (the horse had broke a trace), -She was all dressed and scented for her lover, -Her bright blue blouse had imitation lace, -The paint was red as roses on her face, -She hummed a song, because she thought to see -How envious all the other girls would be. - -When she arrived and found her Ernie gone, -Her bitter heart thought, 'This is how it is. -Keeping me waiting while the sports are on: -Promising faithful, too, and then to miss. -O, Ernie, won't I give it you for this.' -And looking up she saw a couple cling, -Ern with his arm round Bessie in the swing. - -Ern caught her eye and spat, and cut her dead, -Bessie laughed hardly, in the gipsy way. -Anna, though blind with fury, tossed her head, -Biting her lips until the red was grey, -For bitter moments given, bitter pay, -The time for payment comes, early or late, -No earthly debtor but accounts to Fate. - -She turned aside, telling with bitter oaths -What Ern should suffer if he turned agen, -And there was Jimmy stripping off his clothes -Within a little ring of farming men. -'Now, Jimmy, put the old tup into pen.' -His mother, watching, thought her heart would curdle, -To see Jim drag the old ram to the hurdle. - -Then the ram butted and the game began, -Till Jimmy's muscles cracked and the ram grunted. -The good old wrestling game of Ram and Man, -At which none knows the hunter from the hunted. -'Come and see Jimmy have his belly bunted.' -'Good tup. Good Jim. Good Jimmy. Sick him, Rover, -By dang, but Jimmy's got him fairly over.' - -Then there was clap of hands and Jimmy grinned -And took five silver shillings from his backers, -And said th'old tup had put him out of wind -Or else he'd take all comers at the Whackers. -And some made rude remarks of rams and knackers, -And mother shook to get her son alone, -So's to be sure he hadn't broke a bone. - -None but the lucky man deserves the fair, -For lucky men have money and success, -Things that a whore is very glad to share, -Or dip, at least, a finger in the mess. -Anne, with her raddled cheeks and Sunday dress, -Smiled upon Jimmy, seeing him succeed, -As though to say, 'You are a man, indeed.' - -All the great things of life are swiftly done, -Creation, death, and love the double gate. -However much we dawdle in the sun -We have to hurry at the touch of Fate; -When Life knocks at the door no one can wait, -When Death makes his arrest we have to go. -And so with love, and Jimmy found it so. - -Love, the sharp spear, went pricking to the bone, -In that one look, desire and bitter aching, -Longing to have that woman all alone -For her dear beauty's sake all else forsaking; -And sudden agony that set him shaking -Lest she, whose beauty made his heart's blood cruddle, -Should be another man's to kiss and cuddle. - -She was beside him when he left the ring, -Her soft dress brushed against him as he passed her; -He thought her penny scent a sweeter thing -Than precious ointment out of alabaster; -Love, the mild servant, makes a drunken master. -She smiled, half sadly, out of thoughtful eyes, -And all the strong young man was easy prize. - -She spoke, to take him, seeing him a sheep, -'How beautiful you wrastled with the ram, -It made me all go tremble just to peep, -I am that fond of wrastling, that I am. -Why, here's your mother, too. Good-evening, ma'am. -I was just telling Jim how well he done, -How proud you must be of so fine a son.' - -Old mother blinked, while Jimmy hardly knew -Whether he knew the woman there or not; -But well he knew, if not, he wanted to, -Joy of her beauty ran in him so hot, -Old trembling mother by him was forgot, -While Anna searched the mother's face, to know -Whether she took her for a whore or no. - -The woman's maxim, 'Win the woman first,' -Made her be gracious to the withered thing. -'This being in crowds do give one such a thirst, -I wonder if they've tea going at "The King"? -My throat's that dry my very tongue do cling, -Perhaps you'd take my arm, we'd wander up -(If you'd agree) and try and get a cup. - -Come, ma'am, a cup of tea would do you good; -There's nothing like a nice hot cup of tea -After the crowd and all the time you've stood; -And "The King's" strict, it isn't like "The Key," -Now, take my arm, my dear, and lean on me.' -And Jimmy's mother, being nearly blind, -Took Anna's arm, and only thought her kind. - -So off they set, with Anna talking to her, -How nice the tea would be after the crowd, -And mother thinking half the time she knew her, -And Jimmy's heart's blood ticking quick and loud, -And Death beside him knitting at his shroud, -And all the High Street babbling with the fair, -And white October clouds in the blue air. - -So tea was made, and down they sat to drink; -O the pale beauty sitting at the board! -There is more death in women than we think, -There is much danger in the soul adored, -The white hands bring the poison and the cord; -Death has a lodge in lips as red as cherries, -Death has a mansion in the yew-tree berries. - -They sat there talking after tea was done, -And Jimmy blushed at Anna's sparkling looks, -And Anna flattered mother on her son, -Catching both fishes on her subtle hooks. -With twilight, tea and talk in ingle-nooks, -And music coming up from the dim street, -Mother had never known a fair so sweet. - -Now cow-bells clink, for milking-time is come, -The drovers stack the hurdles into carts, -New masters drive the straying cattle home, -Many a young calf from his mother parts, -Hogs straggle back to sty by fits and starts; -The farmers take a last glass at the inns, -And now the frolic of the fair begins. - -All of the side shows of the fair are lighted, -Flares and bright lights, and brassy cymbals clanging, -'Beginning now' and 'Everyone's invited,' -Shatter the pauses of the organ's whanging, -The Oldest Show on Earth and the Last Hanging, -'The Murder in the Red Barn,' with real blood, -The rifles crack, the Sally shy-sticks thud. - -Anna walked slowly homewards with her prey, -Holding old tottering mother's weight upon her, -And pouring in sweet poison on the way -Of 'Such a pleasure, ma'am, and such an honour,' -And 'One's so safe with such a son to con her -Through all the noises and through all the press, -Boys daredn't squirt tormenters on her dress.' - -At mother's door they stop to say 'Good-night.' -And mother must go in to set the table. -Anna pretended that she felt a fright -To go alone through all the merry babel: -'My friends are waiting at "The Cain and Abel," -Just down the other side of Market Square, -It'd be a mercy if you'd set me there.' - -So Jimmy came, while mother went inside; -Anna has got her victim in her clutch. -Jimmy, all blushing, glad to be her guide, -Thrilled by her scent, and trembling at her touch. -She was all white and dark, and said not much; -She sighed, to hint that pleasure's grave was dug, -And smiled within to see him such a mug. - -They passed the doctor's house among the trees, -She sighed so deep that Jimmy asked her why. -'I'm too unhappy upon nights like these, -When everyone has happiness but I!' -'Then, aren't you happy?' She appeared to cry, -Blinked with her eyes, and turned away her head: -'Not much; but some men understand,' she said. - -Her voice caught lightly on a broken note, -Jimmy half-dared but dared not touch her hand, -Yet all his blood went pumping in his throat -Beside the beauty he could understand, -And Death stopped knitting at the muffling band. -'The shroud is done,' he muttered, 'toe to chin.' -He snapped the ends, and tucked his needles in. - -Jimmy, half stammering, choked, 'Has any man----' -He stopped, she shook her head to answer 'No.' -'Then tell me.' 'No. P'raps some day, if I can. -It hurts to talk of some things ever so. -But you're so different. There, come, we must go -None but unhappy women know how good -It is to meet a soul who's understood.' - -'No. Wait a moment. May I call you Anna?' -'Perhaps. There must be nearness 'twixt us two.' -Love in her face hung out his bloody banner, -And all love's clanging trumpets shocked and blew. -'When we got up to-day we never knew.' -'I'm sure I didn't think, nor you did.' 'Never.' -'And now this friendship's come to us for ever.' - -'Now, Anna, take my arm, dear.' 'Not to-night, -That must come later when we know our minds, -We must agree to keep this evening white, -We'll eat the fruit to-night and save the rinds.' -And all the folk whose shadows darked the blinds, -And all the dancers whirling in the fair, -Were wretched worms to Jim and Anna there. - -'How wonderful life is,' said Anna, lowly. -'But it begins again with you for friend.' -In the dim lamplight Jimmy thought her holy, -A lovely fragile thing for him to tend, -Grace beyond measure, beauty without end. -'Anna,' he said; 'Good-night. This is the door. -I never knew what people meant before.' - -'Good-night, my friend. Good-bye.' 'But, O my sweet, -The night's quite early yet, don't say good-bye, -Come just another short turn down the street, -The whole life's bubbling up for you and I. -Somehow I feel to-morrow we may die. -Come just as far as to the blacksmith's light.' -But 'No' said Anna; 'Not to-night. Good-night.' - -All the tides triumph when the white moon fills. -Down in the race the toppling waters shout, -The breakers shake the bases of the hills, -There is a thundering where the streams go out, -And the wise shipman puts his ship about -Seeing the gathering of those waters wan, -But what when love makes high tide in a man? - -Jimmy walked home with all his mind on fire, -One lovely face for ever set in flame. -He shivered as he went, like tautened wire, -Surge after surge of shuddering in him came -And then swept out repeating one sweet name, -'Anna, O Anna,' to the evening star. -Anna was sipping whiskey in the bar. - -So back to home and mother Jimmy wandered, -Thinking of Plaister's End and Anna's lips. -He ate no supper worth the name, but pondered -On Plaister's End hedge, scarlet with ripe hips, -And of the lovely moon there in eclipse, -And how she must be shining in the house -Behind the hedge of those old dog-rose boughs. - -Old mother cleared away. The clock struck eight. -'Why, boy, you've left your bacon, lawks a me, -So that's what comes of having tea so late, -Another time you'll go without your tea. -Your father liked his cup, too, didn't he, -Always "another cup" he used to say, -He never went without on any day. - -How nice the lady was and how she talked, -I've never had a nicer fair, not ever.' -'She said she'd like to see us if we walked -To Plaister's End, beyond by Watersever. -Nice-looking woman, too, and that, and clever; -We might go round one evening, p'raps, we two; -Or I might go, if it's too far for you.' - -'No,' said the mother, 'we're not folk for that; -Meet at the fair and that, and there an end. -Rake out the fire and put out the cat, -These fairs are sinful, tempting folk to spend. -Of course she spoke polite and like a friend; -Of course she had to do, and so I let her, -But now it's done and past, so I forget her.' - -'I don't see why forget her. Why forget her? -She treat us kind. She weren't like everyone. -I never saw a woman I liked better, -And he's not easy pleased, my father's son. -So I'll go round some night when work is done.' -'Now, Jim, my dear, trust mother, there's a dear.' -'Well, so I do, but sometimes you're so queer.' - -She blinked at him out of her withered eyes -Below her lashless eyelids red and bleared. -Her months of sacrifice had won the prize, -Her Jim had come to what she always feared. -And yet she doubted, so she shook and peered -And begged her God not let a woman take -The lovely son whom she had starved to make. - -Doubting, she stood the dishes in the rack, -'We'll ask her in some evening, then,' she said, -'How nice her hair looked in the bit of black.' -And still she peered from eyes all dim and red -To note at once if Jimmy drooped his head, -Or if his ears blushed when he heard her praised, -And Jimmy blushed and hung his head and gazed. - -'This is the end,' she thought. 'This is the end. -I'll have to sew again for Mr Jones, -Do hems when I can hardly see to mend, -And have the old ache in my marrow-bones. -And when his wife's in child-bed, when she groans, -She'll send for me until the pains have ceased, -And give me leavings at the christening feast. - -And sit aslant to eye me as I eat, -"You're only wanted here, ma'am, for to-day, -Just for the christ'ning party, for the treat, -Don't ever think I mean to let you stay; -Two's company, three's none, that's what I say." -Life can be bitter to the very bone -When one is poor, and woman, and alone. - -'Jimmy,' she said, still doubting, 'Come, my dear, -Let's have our "Binger," 'fore we go to bed,' -And then 'The parson's dog,' she cackled clear, -'Lep over stile,' she sang, nodding her head. -'His name was little Binger.' 'Jim,' she said, -'Binger, now, chorus' ... Jimmy kicked the hob, -The sacrament of song died in a sob. - -Jimmy went out into the night to think -Under the moon so steady in the blue. -The woman's beauty ran in him like drink, -The fear that men had loved her burnt him through; -The fear that even then another knew -All the deep mystery which women make -To hide the inner nothing made him shake. - -'Anna, I love you, and I always shall.' -He looked towards Plaister's End beyond Cot Hills. -A white star glimmered in the long canal, -A droning from the music came in thrills. -Love is a flame to burn out human wills, -Love is a flame to set the will on fire, -Love is a flame to cheat men into mire. - -One of the three, we make Love what we choose, -But Jimmy did not know, he only thought -That Anna was too beautiful to lose, -That she was all the world and he was naught, -That it was sweet, though bitter, to be caught. -'Anna, I love you.' Underneath the moon, -'I shall go mad unless I see you soon.' - -The fair's lights threw aloft a misty glow. -The organ whangs, the giddy horses reel, -The rifles cease, the folk begin to go, -The hands unclamp the swing-boats from the wheel, -There is a smell of trodden orange peel; -The organ drones and dies, the horses stop, -And then the tent collapses from the top. - -The fair is over, let the people troop, -The drunkards stagger homewards down the gutters, -The showmen heave in an excited group, -The poles tilt slowly down, the canvas flutters, -The mauls knock out the pins, the last flare sputters. -'Lower away.' 'Go easy.' 'Lower, lower.' -'You've dang near knock my skull in. Loose it slower.' - -'Back in the horses.' 'Are the swing-boats loaded?' -'All right to start.' 'Bill, where's the cushion gone? -The red one for the Queen?' 'I think I stowed it.' -'You think, you think. Lord, where's that cushion, John?' -'It's in that bloody box you're sitting on, -What more d'you want?' A concertina plays -Far off as wandering lovers go their ways. - -Up the dim Bye Street to the market-place -The dead bones of the fair are borne in carts, -Horses and swing-boats at a funeral pace -After triumphant hours quickening hearts; -A policeman eyes each waggon as it starts, -The drowsy showmen stumble half asleep, -One of them catcalls, having drunken deep. - -So out, over the pass, into the plain, -And the dawn finds them filling empty cans -In some sweet-smelling dusty country lane, -Where a brook chatters over rusty pans. -The iron chimneys of the caravans -Smoke as they go. And now the fair has gone -To find a new pitch somewhere further on. - -But as the fair moved out two lovers came, -Ernie and Bessie loitering out together; -Bessie with wild eyes, hungry as a flame, -Ern like a stallion tugging at a tether. -It was calm moonlight, and October weather, -So still, so lovely, as they topped the ridge. -They brushed by Jimmy standing on the bridge. - -And, as they passed, they gravely eyed each other, -And the blood burned in each heart beating there; -And out into the Bye Street tottered mother, -Without her shawl, in the October air. -'Jimmy,' she cried, 'Jimmy.' And Bessie's hair -Drooped on the instant over Ernie's face, -And the two lovers clung in an embrace. - -'O, Ern.' 'My own, my Bessie.' As they kissed -Jimmy was envious of the thing unknown. -So this was Love, the something he had missed, -Woman and man athirst, aflame, alone. -Envy went knocking at his marrow-bone, -And Anna's face swam up so dim, so fair, -Shining and sweet, with poppies in her hair. - - - - - III - - -After the fair, the gang began again. -Tipping the trollies down the banks of earth. -The truck of stone clanks on the endless chain, -A clever pony guides it to its berth. -'Let go.' It tips, the navvies shout for mirth -To see the pony step aside, so wise, -But Jimmy sighed, thinking of Anna's eyes. - -And when he stopped his shovelling he looked -Over the junipers towards Plaister way, -The beauty of his darling had him hooked, -He had no heart for wrastling with the clay. -'O Lord Almighty, I must get away; -O Lord, I must. I must just see my flower, -Why, I could run there in the dinner hour.' - -The whistle on the pilot engine blew, -The men knocked off, and Jimmy slipped aside -Over the fence, over the bridge, and through, -And then ahead along the water-side, -Under the red-brick rail-bridge, arching wide, -Over the hedge, across the fields, and on; -The foreman asked: 'Where's Jimmy Gurney gone?' - -It is a mile and more to Plaister's End, -But Jimmy ran the short way by the stream, -And there was Anna's cottage at the bend, -With blue smoke on the chimney, faint as steam. -'God, she's at home,' and up his heart a gleam -Leapt like a rocket on November nights, -And shattered slowly in a burst of lights. - -Anna was singing at her kitchen fire, -She was surprised, and not well pleased to see -A sweating navvy, red with heat and mire, -Come to her door, whoever he might be. -But when she saw that it was Jimmy, she -Smiled at his eyes upon her, full of pain, -And thought, 'But, still, he mustn't come again. - -People will talk; boys are such crazy things; -But he's a dear boy though he is so green.' -So, hurriedly, she slipped her apron strings, -And dabbed her hair, and wiped her fingers clean, -And came to greet him languid as a queen, -Looking as sweet, as fair, as pure, as sad, -As when she drove her loving husband mad. - -'Poor boy,' she said, 'Poor boy, how hot you are.' -She laid a cool hand to his sweating face. -'How kind to come. Have you been running far? -I'm just going out; come up the road a pace. -O dear, these hens; they're all about the place.' -So Jimmy shooed the hens at her command, -And got outside the gate as she had planned. - -'Anna, my dear, I love you; love you, true; -I had to come--I don't know--I can't rest-- -I lay awake all night, thinking of you. -Many must love you, but I love you best.' -'Many have loved me, yes, dear,' she confessed, -She smiled upon him with a tender pride, -'But my love ended when my husband died. - -Still, we'll be friends, dear friends, dear, tender friends; -Love with its fever's at an end for me. -Be by me gently now the fever ends, -Life is a lovelier thing than lovers see, -I'd like to trust a man, Jimmy,' said she, -'May I trust you?' 'Oh, Anna dear, my dear---- -'Don't come so close,' she said, 'with people near. - -Dear, don't be vexed; it's very sweet to find -One who will understand; but life is life, -And those who do not know are so unkind. -But you'll be by me, Jimmy, in the strife, -I love you though I cannot be your wife; -And now be off, before the whistle goes, -Or else you'll lose your quarter, goodness knows.' - -'When can I see you, Anna? Tell me, dear. -To-night? To-morrow? Shall I come to-night? -'Jimmy, my friend, I cannot have you here; -But when I come to town perhaps we might. -Dear, you must go; no kissing; you can write, -And I'll arrange a meeting when I learn -What friends are doing' (meaning Shepherd Ern). - -'Good-bye, my own.' 'Dear Jim, you understand. -If we were only free, dear, free to meet, -Dear, I would take you by your big, strong hand -And kiss your dear boy eyes so blue and sweet; -But my dead husband lies under the sheet, -Dead in my heart, dear, lovely, lonely one, -So, Jim, my dear, my loving days are done. - -But though my heart is buried in his grave -Something might be--friendship and utter trust-- -And you, my dear starved little Jim shall have -Flowers of friendship from my dead heart's dust; -Life would be sweet if men would never lust. -Why do you, Jimmy? Tell me sometime, dear, -Why men are always what we women fear. - -Not now. Good-bye; we understand, we two, -And life, O Jim, how glorious life is; -This sunshine in my heart is due to you; -I was so sad, and life has given this. -I think "I wish I had something of his," -Do give me something, will you be so kind? -Something to keep you always in my mind. - -'I will,' he said. 'Now go, or you'll be late.' -He broke from her and ran, and never dreamt -That as she stood to watch him from the gate -Her heart was half amusement, half contempt, -Comparing Jim the squab, red and unkempt, -In sweaty corduroys, with Shepherd Ern. -She blew him kisses till he passed the turn. - -The whistle blew before he reached the line; -The foreman asked him what the hell he meant, -Whether a duke had asked him out to dine, -Or if he thought the bag would pay his rent? -And Jim was fined before the foreman went. -But still his spirit glowed from Anna's words, -Cooed in the voice so like a singing bird's. - -'O Anna, darling, you shall have a present; -I'd give you golden gems if I were rich, -And everything that's sweet and all that's pleasant.' -He dropped his pick as though he had a stitch, -And stared tow'rds Plaister's End, past Bushe's Pitch. -O beauty, what I have to give I'll give, -All mine is yours, beloved, while I live.' - -All through the afternoon his pick was slacking, -His eyes were always turning west and south, -The foreman was inclined to send him packing, -But put it down to after fair-day drouth; -He looked at Jimmy with an ugly mouth, -And Jimmy slacked, and muttered in a moan, -'My love, my beautiful, my very own.' - -So she had loved. Another man had had her; -She had been his with passion in the night; -An agony of envy made him sadder, -Yet stabbed a pang of bitter-sweet delight-- -O he would keep his image of her white. -The foreman cursed, stepped up, and asked him flat -What kind of gum-tree he was gaping at. - -It was Jim's custom, when the pay day came, -To take his weekly five and twenty shilling -Back in the little packet to his dame; -Not taking out a farthing for a filling, -Nor twopence for a pot, for he was willing -That she should have it all to save or spend. -But love makes many lovely customs end. - -Next pay day came and Jimmy took the money, -But not to mother, for he meant to buy -A thirteen-shilling locket for his honey, -Whatever bellies hungered and went dry, -A silver heart-shape with a ruby eye. -He bought the thing and paid the shopman's price, -And hurried off to make the sacrifice. - -'Is it for me? You dear, dear generous boy. -How sweet of you. I'll wear it in my dress. -When you're beside me life is such a joy, -You bring the sun to solitariness.' -She brushed his jacket with a light caress, -His arms went round her fast, she yielded meek; -He had the happiness to kiss her cheek. - -'My dear, my dear.' 'My very dear, my Jim, -How very kind my Jimmy is to me; -I ache to think that some are harsh to him; -Not like my Jimmy, beautiful and free. -My darling boy, how lovely it would be -If all would trust as we two trust each other.' -And Jimmy's heart grew hard against his mother. - -She, poor old soul, was waiting in the gloom -For Jimmy's pay, that she could do the shopping. -The clock ticked out a solemn tale of doom; -Clogs on the bricks outside went clippa-clopping, -The owls were coming out and dew was dropping. -The bacon burnt, and Jimmy not yet home. -The clock was ticking dooms out like a gnome. - -'What can have kept him that he doesn't come? -O God, they'd tell me if he'd come to hurt.' -The unknown, unseen evil struck her numb, -She saw his body bloody in the dirt, -She saw the life blood pumping through the shirt, -She saw him tipsy in the navvies' booth, -She saw all forms of evil but the truth. - -At last she hurried up the line to ask -If Jim were hurt or why he wasn't back. -She found the watchman wearing through his task; -Over the fire basket in his shack; -Behind, the new embankment rose up black. -'Gurney?' he said. 'He'd got to see a friend.' -'Where?' 'I dunno. I think out Plaister's End. - -Thanking the man, she tottered down the hill, -The long-feared fang had bitten to the bone. -The brook beside her talked as water will -That it was lonely singing all alone, -The night was lonely with the water's tone, -And she was lonely to the very marrow. -Love puts such bitter poison on Fate's arrow. - -She went the long way to them by the mills, -She told herself that she must find her son. -The night was ominous of many ills; -The soughing larch-clump almost made her run, -Her boots hurt (she had got a stone in one) -And bitter beaks were tearing at her liver -That her boy's heart was turned from her forever. - -She kept the lane, past Spindle's, past the Callows', -Her lips still muttering prayers against the worst, -And there were people coming from the sallows, -Along the wild duck patch by Beggar's Hurst. -Being in moonlight mother saw them first, -She saw them moving in the moonlight dim, -A woman with a sweet voice saying 'Jim.' - -Trembling she grovelled down into the ditch, -They wandered past her pressing side to side. -'O Anna, my belov'd, if I were rich.' -It was her son, and Anna's voice replied, -'Dear boy, dear beauty boy, my love and pride.' -And he: 'It's but a silver thing, but I -Will earn you better lockets by and bye.' - -'Dear boy, you mustn't.' 'But I mean to do.' -'What was that funny sort of noise I heard?' -'Where?' 'In the hedge; a sort of sob or coo. -Listen. It's gone.' 'It may have been a bird.' -Jim tossed a stone but mother never stirred. -She hugged the hedgerow, choking down her pain, -While the hot tears were blinding in her brain. - -The two passed on, the withered woman rose, -For many minutes she could only shake, -Staring ahead with trembling little 'Oh's,' -The noise a very frightened child might make. -'O God, dear God, don't let the woman take -My little son, God, not my little Jim. -O God, I'll have to starve if I lose him.' - -So back she trembled, nodding with her head, -Laughing and trembling in the bursts of tears, -Her ditch-filled boots both squelching in the tread, -Her shopping-bonnet sagging to her ears, -Her heart too dumb with brokenness for fears. -The nightmare whickering with the laugh of death -Could not have added terror to her breath. - -She reached the house, and: 'I'm all right,' said she, -'I'll just take off my things; but I'm all right, -'I'd be all right with just a cup of tea, -If I could only get this grate to light, -The paper's damp and Jimmy's late to-night; -"Belov'd, if I was rich," was what he said, -O Jim, I wish that God would kill me dead.' - -While she was blinking at the unlit grate, -Scratching the moistened match-heads off the wood, -She heard Jim coming, so she reached his plate, -And forked the over-frizzled scraps of food. -'You're late,' she said, 'and this yer isn't good, -Whatever makes you come in late like this?' -'I've been to Plaister's End, that's how it is.' - -'You've been to Plaister's End?' - 'Yes.' - 'I've been staying -For money for the shopping ever so. -Down here we can't get victuals without paying, -There's no trust down the Bye Street, as you know, -And now it's dark and it's too late to go. -You've been to Plaister's End. What took you there?' -'The lady who was with us at the fair.' - -'The lady, eh? The lady?' - 'Yes, the lady.' -'You've been to see her?' - 'Yes.' - 'What happened then?' -'I saw her.' - 'Yes. And what filth did she trade ye? -Or d'you expect your locket back agen? -I know the rotten ways of whores with men. -What did it cost ye?' - 'What did what cost?' - 'It. -Your devil's penny for the devil's bit.' - -'I don't know what you mean.' - 'Jimmy, my own. -Don't lie to mother, boy, for mother knows. -I know you and that lady to the bone, -And she's a whore, that thing you call a rose, -A whore who takes whatever male thing goes; -A harlot with the devil's skill to tell -The special key of each man's door to hell.' - -'She's not. She's nothing of the kind, I tell'ee.' -'You can't tell women like a woman can; -A beggar tells a lie to fill his belly, -A strumpet tells a lie to win a man, -Women were liars since the world began; -And she's a liar, branded in the eyes, -A rotten liar, who inspires lies.' - -'I say she's not.' - 'No, don't'ee Jim, my dearie, -You've seen her often in the last few days, -She's given a love as makes you come in weary -To lie to me before going out to laze. -She's tempted you into the devil's ways, -She's robbing you, full fist, of what you earn, -In God's name, what's she giving in return?' - -'Her faith, my dear, and that's enough for me.' -'Her faith. Her faith. O Jimmy, listen, dear; -Love doesn't ask for faith, my son, not he; -He asks for life throughout the live-long year, -And life's a test for any plough to ere -Life tests a plough in meadows made of stones, -Love takes a toll of spirit, mind and bones. - -I know a woman's portion when she loves, -It's hers to give, my darling, not to take; -It isn't lockets, dear, nor pairs of gloves, -It isn't marriage bells nor wedding cake, -It's up and cook, although the belly ache; -And bear the child, and up and work again, -And count a sick man's grumble worth the pain. - -Will she do this, and fifty times as much?' -'No. I don't ask her.' - 'No. I warrant, no. -She's one to get a young fool in her clutch, -And you're a fool to let her trap you so. -She love you? She? O Jimmy, let her go; -I was so happy, dear, before she came, -And now I'm going to the grave in shame. - -I bore you, Jimmy, in this very room. -For fifteen years I got you all you had, -You were my little son, made in my womb, -Left all to me, for God had took your dad, -You were a good son, doing all I bade, -Until this strumpet came from God knows where, -And now you lie, and I am in despair. - -Jimmy, I won't say more. I know you think -That I don't know, being just a withered old, -With chaps all fallen in and eyes that blink, -And hands that tremble so they cannot hold. -A bag of bones to put in churchyard mould, -A red-eyed hag beside your evening star.' -And Jimmy gulped, and thought 'By God, you are.' - -'Well, if I am, my dear, I don't pretend. -I got my eyes red, Jimmy, making you. -My dear, before our love time's at an end -Think just a minute what it is you do. -If this were right, my dear, you'd tell me true; -You don't, and so it's wrong; you lie; and she -Lies too, or else you wouldn't lie to me. - -Women and men have only got one way -And that way's marriage; other ways are lust. -If you must marry this one, then you may, -If not you'll drop her.' - 'No.' 'I say you must. -Or bring my hairs with sorrow to the dust. -Marry your whore, you'll pay, and there an end. -My God, you shall not have a whore for friend. - -By God, you shall not, not while I'm alive. -Never, so help me God, shall that thing be. -If she's a woman fit to touch she'll wive, -If not she's whore, and she shall deal with me. -And may God's blessed mercy help us see -And may He make my Jimmy count the cost, -My little boy who's lost, as I am lost.' - -People in love cannot be won by kindness, -And opposition makes them feel like martyrs. -When folk are crazy with a drunken blindness, -It's best to flog them with each other's garters, -And have the flogging done by Shropshire carters, -Born under Ercall where the while stones lie; -Ercall that smells of honey in July. - -Jimmy said nothing in reply, but thought -That mother was an old, hard jealous thing. -'I'll love my girl through good and ill report, -I shall be true whatever grief it bring.' -And in his heart he heard the death-bell ring -For mother's death, and thought what it would be -To bury her in churchyard and be free. - -He saw the narrow grave under the wall, -Home without mother nagging at his dear, -And Anna there with him at evenfall, -Bidding him dry his eyes and be of cheer. -'The death that took poor mother brings me near, -Nearer than we have ever been before, -Near as the dead one came, but dearer, more.' - -'Good-night, my son,' said mother. 'Night,' he said. -He dabbed her brow wi's lips and blew the light, -She lay quite silent crying on the bed, -Stirring no limb, but crying through the night. -He slept, convinced that he was Anna's knight. -And when he went to work he left behind -Money for mother crying herself blind. - -After that night he came to Anna's call, -He was a fly in Anna's subtle weavings, -Mother had no more share in him at all; -All that the mother had was Anna's leavings. -There were more lies, more lockets, more deceivings, -Taunts from the proud old woman, lies from him, -And Anna's coo of 'Cruel. Leave her, Jim.' - -Also the foreman spoke: 'You make me sick, -You come-day-go-day-God-send-plenty-beer. -You put less mizzle on your bit of Dick, -Or get your time, I'll have no slackers here, -I've had my eye on you too long, my dear.' -And Jimmy pondered while the man attacked, -'I'd see her all day long if I were sacked.' - -And trembling mother thought, 'I'll go to see'r. -She'd give me back my boy if she were told -Just what he is to me, my pretty dear: -She wouldn't leave me starving in the cold, -Like what I am.' But she was weak and old. -She thought, 'But if I ask her, I'm afraid -He'd hate me ever after,' so she stayed. - - - - - IV - - -Bessie, the gipsy, got with child by Ern, -She joined her tribe again at Shepherd's Meen, -In that old quarry overgrown with fern, -Where goats are tethered on the patch of green. -There she reflected on the fool she'd been, -And plaited kipes and waited for the bastard, -And thought that love was glorious while it lasted. - -And Ern the moody man went moody home, -To that most gentle girl from Ercall Hill, -And bade her take a heed now he had come, -Or else, by cripes, he'd put her through the mill. -He didn't want her love, he'd had his fill, -Thank you, of her, the bread and butter sack. -And Anna heard that Shepherd Ern was back. - -'Back. And I'll have him back to me,' she muttered, -'This lovesick boy of twenty, green as grass, -Has made me wonder if my brains are buttered, -He, and his lockets, and his love, the ass. -I don't know why he comes. Alas! alas! -God knows I want no love; but every sun -I bolt my doors on some poor loving one. - -It breaks my heart to turn them out of doors, -I hear them crying to me in the rain; -One, with a white face, curses, one implores, -"Anna, for God's sake, let me in again, -Anna, belov'd, I cannot bear the pain." -Like hoovey sheep bleating outside a fold -"Anna, belov'd, I'm in the wind and cold." - -I want no men. I'm weary to the soul -Of men like moths about a candle flame, -Of men like flies about a sugar bowl, -Acting alike, and all wanting the same, -My dreamed-of swirl of passion never came, -No man has given me the love I dreamed, -But in the best of each one something gleamed. - -If my dear darling were alive, but he... -He was the same; he didn't understand. -The eyes of that dead child are haunting me, -I only turned the blanket with my hand. -It didn't hurt, he died as I had planned. -A little skinny creature, weak and red; -It looked so peaceful after it was dead. - -I have been all alone, in spite of all. -Never a light to help me place my feet: -I have had many a pain and many a fall. -Life's a long headache in a noisy street, -Love at the budding looks so very sweet, -Men put such bright disguises on their lust, -And then it all goes crumble into dust. - -Jimmy the same, dear, lovely Jimmy, too, -He goes the self-same way the others went: -I shall bring sorrow to those eyes of blue. -He asks the love I'm sure I never meant. -Am I to blame? And all his money spent! -Men make this shutting doors such cruel pain. -O, Ern, I want you in my life again.' - -On Sunday afternoons the lovers walk -Arm within arm, dressed in their Sunday best, -The man with the blue necktie sucks a stalk, -The woman answers when she is addressed. -On quiet country stiles they sit to rest, -And after fifty years of wear and tear -They think how beautiful their courtships were. - -Jimmy and Anna met to walk together -The Sunday after Shepherd Ern returned; -And Anna's hat was lovely with a feather -Bought and dyed blue with money Jimmy earned. -They walked towards Callows Farm, and Anna yearned: -'Dear boy,' she said, 'This road is dull to-day, -Suppose we turn and walk the other way.' - -They turned, she sighed. 'What makes you sigh?' he asked. -'Thinking,' she said, 'thinking and grieving, too. -Perhaps some wicked woman will come masked -Into your life, my dear, to ruin you. -And trusting every woman as you do -It might mean death to love and be deceived; -You'd take it hard, I thought, and so I grieved.' - -'Dear one, dear Anna.' 'O my lovely boy, -Life is all golden to the finger tips. -What will be must be: but to-day's a joy. -Reach me that lovely branch of scarlet hips.' -He reached and gave; she put it to her lips. -'And here,' she said, 'we come to Plaister Turns.' -And then she chose the road to Shepherd Ern's. - -As the deft angler, when the fishes rise, -Flicks on the broadening circle over each -The delicatest touch of dropping flies, -Then pulls more line and whips a longer reach, -Longing to feel the rod bend, the reel screech, -And the quick comrade net the monster out, -So Anna played the fly over her trout. - -Twice she passed, thrice, she with the boy beside her, -A lovely fly, hooked for a human heart, -She passed his little gate, while Jimmy eyed her, -Feeling her beauty tear his soul apart: -Then did the great trout rise, the great pike dart, -The gate went clack, a man came up the hill, -The lucky strike had hooked him through the gill. - -Her breath comes quick, her tired beauty glows, -She would not look behind, she looked ahead. -It seemed to Jimmy she was like a rose, -A golden white rose faintly flushed with red. -Her eyes danced quicker at the approaching tread, -Her finger nails dug sharp into her palm. -She yearned to Jimmy's shoulder, and kept calm. - -'Evening,' said Shepherd Ern. She turned and eyed him, -Cold and surprised, but interested too, -To see how much he felt the hook inside him, -And how much be surmised, and Jimmy knew, -And if her beauty still could make him do -The love tricks he had gambolled in the past. -A glow shot through her that her fish was grassed. - -'Evening,' she said. 'Good evening.' Jimmy felt -Jealous and angry at the shepherd's tone; -He longed to hit the fellow's nose a belt, -He wanted his beloved his alone. -A fellow's girl should be a fellow's own. -Ern gave the lad a glance and turned to Anna, -Jim might have been in China by his manner. - -'Still walking out?' 'As you are.' 'I'll be bound.' -'Can you talk gipsy yet, or plait a kipe?' -'I'll teach you if I can when I come round.' -'And when will that be?' 'When the time is ripe.' -And Jimmy longed to hit the man a swipe -Under the chin to knock him out of time, -But Anna stayed: she still had twigs to lime. - -'Come, Anna, come, my dear,' he muttered low. -She frowned, and blinked and spoke again to Ern. -'I hear the gipsy has a row to hoe.' -'The more you hear,' he said, 'the less you'll learn.' -'We've just come out,' she said, 'to take a turn; -Suppose you come along: the more the merrier.' -'All right,' he said, 'but how about the terrier?' - -He cocked an eye at Jimmy. 'Does he bite?' -Jimmy blushed scarlet. 'He's a dear,' said she. -Ern walked a step, 'Will you be in to-night?' -She shook her head, 'I doubt if that may be. -Jim, here's a friend who wants to talk to me, -So will you go and come another day?' -'By crimes, I won't!' said Jimmy, 'I shall stay.' - -'I thought he bit,' said Ern, and Anna smiled, -And Jimmy saw the smile and watched her face -While all the jealous devils made him wild; -A third in love is always out of place; -And then her gentle body full of grace -Leaned to him sweetly as she tossed her head, -'Perhaps we two'll be getting on,' she said. - -They walked, but Jimmy turned to watch the third. -'I'm here, not you,' he said; the shepherd grinned: -Anna was smiling sweet without a word; -She got the scarlet berry branch unpinned. -'It's cold,' she said, 'this evening, in the wind.' -A quick glance showed that Jimmy didn't mind her, -She beckoned with the berry branch behind her, - -Then dropped it gently on the broken stones, -Preoccupied, unheeding, walking straight, -Saying 'You jealous boy,' in even tones, -Looking so beautiful, so delicate, -Being so very sweet: but at her gate -She felt her shoe unlaced and looked to know -If Ern had taken up the sprig or no. - -He had, she smiled. 'Anna,' said Jimmy sadly, -'That man's not fit to be a friend of yourn, -He's nobbut just an oaf; I love you madly, -And hearing you speak kind to'm made me burn. -Who is he then?' She answered 'Shepherd Ern, -A pleasant man, an old, old friend of mine.' -'By cripes, then, Anna, drop him, he's a swine.' - -'Jimmy,' she said, 'you must have faith in me, -Faith's all the battle in a love like ours. -You must believe, my darling, don't you see -That life to have its sweets must have its sours. -Love isn't always two souls picking flowers. -You must have faith. I give you all I can. -What, can't I say "Good evening" to a man?' - -'Yes,' he replied, 'But not a man like him.' -'Why not a man like him?' she said, 'What next?' -By this they'd reached her cottage in the dim, -Among the daisies that the cold had kexed. -'Because I say. Now, Anna, don't be vexed.' -'I'm more than vexed,' she said, 'with words like these. -"You say," indeed. How dare you. Leave me, please.' - -'Anna, my Anna.' 'Leave me.' She was cold, -Proud and imperious with a lifting lip, -Blazing within, but outwardly controlled; -He had a colt's first instant of the whip. -The long lash curled to cut a second strip. -'You to presume to teach. Of course, I know -You're mother's Sunday scholar, aren't you? Go.' - -She slammed the door behind her, clutching skirts. -'Anna.' He heard her bedroom latches thud. -He learned at last how bitterly love hurts; -He longed to cut her throat and see her blood, -To stamp her blinking eyeballs into mud. -'Anna, by God!' Love's many torments make -That tune soon change to 'Dear, for Jesus' sake.' - -He beat the door for her. She never stirred, -But primming bitter lips before her glass; -Admired her hat as though she hadn't heard, -And tried her front hair parted, and in mass. -She heard her lover's hasty footsteps pass. -'He's gone,' she thought. She crouched below the pane, -And heard him cursing as he tramped the lane. - -Rage ran in Jimmy as he tramped the night; -Rage, strongly mingled with a youth's disgust -At finding a beloved woman light, -And all her precious beauty dirty dust; -A tinsel-varnish gilded over lust. -Nothing but that. He sat him down to rage, -Beside the stream whose waters never age. - -Plashing, it slithered down the tiny fall -To eddy wrinkles in the trembling pool -With that light voice whose music cannot pall, -Always the note of solace, flute-like, cool. -And when hot-headed man has been a fool, -He could not do a wiser thing than go -To that dim pool where purple teazles grow. - -He glowered there until suspicion came, -Suspicion, anger's bastard, with mean tongue, -To mutter to him till his heart was flame, -And every fibre of his soul was wrung, -That even then Ern and his Anna clung -Mouth against mouth in passionate embrace. -There was no peace for Jimmy in the place. - -Raging he hurried back to learn the truth. -The little swinging wicket glimmered white, -The chimney jagged the skyline like a tooth, -Bells came in swoons for it was Sunday night. -The garden was all dark, but there was light -Up in the little room where Anna slept: -The hot blood beat his brain; he crept, he crept. - -Clutching himself to hear, clutching to know, -Along the path, rustling with withered leaves, -Up to the apple, too decayed to blow, -Which crooked a palsied finger at the eaves. -And up the lichened trunk his body heaves. -Dust blinded him, twigs snapped, the branches shook, -He leaned along a mossy bough to look. - -Nothing at first, except a guttering candle -Shaking amazing shadows on the ceiling, -Then Anna's voice upon a bar of 'Randal, -Where have you been:' and voice and music reeling, -Trembling, as though she sang with flooding feeling. -The singing stopped midway upon the stair, -Then Anna showed in white with loosened hair. - -Her back was towards him, and she stood awhile, -Like a wild creature tossing back her mane, -And then her head went back, he saw a smile -On the half face half turned towards the pane; -Her eyes closed, and her arms went out again. -Jim gritted teeth, and called upon his Maker, -She drooped into a man's arms there to take her. - -Agony first, sharp, sudden, like a knife, -Then down the tree to batter at the door; -'Open there. Let me in. I'll have your life. -You Jezebel of hell, you painted whore, -Talk about faith, I'll give you faith galore.' -The window creaked, a jug of water came -Over his head and neck with certain aim. - -'Clear out,' said Ern; 'I'm here, not you, to-night, -Clear out. We whip young puppies when they yap.' -'If you're a man,' said Jim, 'Come down and fight, -I'll put a stopper on your ugly chap.' -'Go home,' said Ern; 'Go home and get your pap. -To kennel, pup, and bid your mother bake -Some soothing syrup in your puppy cake.' - -There was a dibble sticking in the bed, -Jim wrenched it out and swung it swiftly round, -And sent it flying at the shepherd's head: -'I'll give you puppy-cake. Take that, you hound.' -The broken glass went clinking to the ground, -The dibble balanced, checked, and followed flat. -'My God,' said Ern, 'I'll give you hell for that.' - -He flung the door ajar with 'Now, my pup-- -Hold up the candle, Anna--now, we'll see.' -'By crimes, come on,' said Jimmy; 'Put them up. -Come, put them up, you coward, here I be.' -And Jim, eleven stone, what chance had he -Against fourteen? but what he could he did; -Ern swung his right: 'That settles you, my kid.' - -Jimmy went down and out: 'The kid,' said Ern. -'A kid, a sucking puppy; hold the light.' -And Anna smiled: 'It gave me such a turn, -You look so splendid, Ernie, when you fight.' -She looked at Jim with: 'Ern, is he all right?' -'He's coming to.' She shuddered, 'Pah, the brute. -What things he said'; she stirred him with her foot. - -'You go inside,' said Ern, 'and bolt the door, -I'll deal with him.' She went and Jimmy stood. -'Now, pup,' said Ern, 'don't come round here no more. -I'm here, not you, let that be understood. -I tell you frankly, pup, for your own good.' -'Give me my hat,' said Jim. He passed the gate, -And as he tottered off he called, 'You wait.' - -'Thanks, I don't have to,' Shepherd Ern replied; -'You'll do whatever waiting's being done.' -The door closed gently as he went inside, -The bolts jarred in the channels one by one. -'I'll give you throwing bats about, my son. -Anna.' 'My dear?' 'Where are you?' 'Come and find.' -The light went out, the windows stared out blind. - -Blind as blind eyes forever seeing dark. -And in the dim the lovers went upstairs, -Her eyes fast closed, the shepherd's burning stark, -His lips entangled in her straying hairs, -Breath coming short as in a convert's prayers, -Her stealthy face all drowsy in the dim -And full of shudders as she yearned to him. - -Jim crossed the water, cursing in his tears, -'By cripes, you wait. My God, he's with her now -And all her hair pulled down over her ears; -Loving the blaggard like a filthy sow, -I saw her kiss him from the apple bough. -They say a whore is always full of wiles, -O God, how sweet her eyes are when she smiles. - -Curse her and curse her. No, my God, she's sweet, -It's all a helly nightmare. I shall wake. -If it were all a dream I'd kiss her feet, -I wish it were a dream for Jesus' sake. -One thing: I bet I made his guzzle ache, -I cop it fair before he sent me down, -I'll cop him yet some evening on the crown. - -O God, O God, what pretty ways she had, -He's kissing all her skin, so white and soft. -She's kissing back. I think I'm going mad. -Like rutting rattens in the apple loft. -She held that light she carried high aloft -Full in my eyes for him to hit me by, -I had the light all dazzling in my eye. - -She had her dress all clutched up to her shoulder, -And all her naked arm was all one gleam. -It's going to freeze to-night, it's turning colder, -I wish there was more water in the stream, -I'd drownd myself. Perhaps it's all a dream, -And bye and bye I'll wake and find it stuff; -By crimes, the pain I suffer's real enough.' - -About two hundred yards from Gunder Loss -He stopped to shudder, leaning on the gate, -He bit the touchwood underneath the moss; -'Rotten, like her,' he muttered in his hate; -He spat it out again with 'But, you wait, -We'll see again, before to-morrow's past, -In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.' - -All through the night the stream ran to the sea, -The different water always saying the same, -Cat-like, and then a tinkle, never glee, -A lonely little child alone in shame. -An otter snapped a thorn twig when he came, -It drifted down, it passed the Hazel Mill, -It passed the Springs; but Jimmy stayed there still. - -Over the pointed hill-top came the light -Out of the mists on Ercall came the sun, -Red like a huntsman halloing after night, -Blowing a horn to rouse up everyone; -Through many glittering cities he had run, -Splashing the wind vanes on the dewy roofs -With golden sparks struck by his horses' hoofs. - -The watchman rose, rubbing his rusty eyes, -He stirred the pot of cocoa for his mate; -The fireman watched his head of power rise. -'What time?' he asked. 'You haven't long to wait.' -'Now, is it time?' 'Yes. Let her ripple.' Straight -The whistle shrieked its message, 'Up to work! -Up, or be fined a quarter if you shirk.' - -Hearing the whistle, Jimmy raised his head, -'The warning call, and me in Sunday clo'es; -I'd better go; I've time. The sun looks red, -I feel so stiff' I'm very nearly froze.' -So over brook and through the fields he goes, -And up the line among the navvies' smiles, -'Young Jimmy Gurney's been upon the tiles.' - -The second whistle blew and work began, -Jimmy worked too, not knowing what he did, -He tripped and stumbled like a drunken man; -He muddled all, whatever he was bid, -The foreman cursed, 'Good God, what ails the kid? -Hi! Gurney. You. We'll have you crocking soon, -You take a lie down till the afternoon.' - -'I won't,' he answered. 'Why the devil should I? -I'm here, I mean to work. I do my piece, -Or would do if a man could, but how could I -Then you come nagging round and never cease? -Well, take the job and give me my release, -I want the sack, now give it, there's my pick; -Give me the sack.' The sack was given quick. - - - - - V - - -Dully he got his time-check from the keeper. -'Curse her,' he said; 'and that's the end of whores'-- -He stumbled drunkenly across a sleeper-- -'Give all you have and get kicked out a-doors.' -He cashed his time-check at the station stores. -'Bett'ring yourself, I hope, Jim,' said the master; -'That's it,' said Jim; 'and so I will do, blast her.' - -Beyond the bridge, a sharp turn to the right -Leads to 'The Bull and Boar,' the carters' rest; -An inn so hidden it is out of sight -To anyone not coming from the west. -The high embankment hides it with its crest. -Far up above the Chester trains go by, -The drinkers see them sweep against the sky. - -Canal men used it when the barges came, -The navvies used it when the line was making; -The pigeons strut and sidle, ruffling, tame, -The chuckling brook in front sets shadows shaking. -Cider and beer for thirsty workers' slaking, -A quiet house; like all that God controls, -It is Fate's instrument on human souls. - -Thither Jim turned. 'And now I'll drink,' he said. -'I'll drink and drink--I never did before-- -I'll drink and drink until I'm mad or dead, -For that's what comes of meddling with a whore.' -He called for liquor at 'The Bull and Boar'; -Moody he drank; the woman asked him why: -'Have you had trouble?' 'No,' he said, 'I'm dry. - -Dry and burnt up, so give's another drink; -That's better, that's much better, that's the sort.' -And then he sang, so that he should not think, -His Binger-Bopper song, but cut it short. -His wits were working like a brewer's wort -Until among them came the vision gleaming -Of Ern with bloody nose and Anna screaming. - -'That's what I'll do,' he muttered; 'knock him out, -And kick his face in with a running jump. -I'll not have dazzled eyes this second bout, -And she can wash the fragments under pump.' -It was his ace; but Death had played a trump. -Death the blind beggar chuckled, nodding dumb, -'My game; the shroud is ready, Jimmy--come.' - -Meanwhile, the mother, waiting for her child, -Had tottered out a dozen times to search. -'Jimmy,' she said, 'you'll drive your mother wild; -Your father's name's too good a name to smirch, -Come home, my dear, she'll leave you in the lurch; -He was so good, my little Jim, so clever; -He never stop a night away, not ever. - -He never slept a night away till now, -Never, not once, in all the time he's been. -It's the Lord's will, they say, and we must bow, -But O it's like a knife, it cuts so keen! -He'll work in's Sunday clothes, it'll be seen, -And then they'll laugh, and say "It isn't strange; -He slept with her, and so he couldn't change." - -Perhaps,' she thought, 'I'm wrong; perhaps he's dead; -Killed himself like; folk do in love, they say. -He never tells what passes in his head, -And he's been looking late so old and grey. -A railway train has cut his head away, -Like the poor hare we found at Maylow's shack. -O God have pity, bring my darling back!' - -All the high stars went sweeping through the sky, -The sun made all the orient clean, clear gold, -'O blessed God,' she prayed, 'do let me die, -Or bring my wand'ring lamb back into fold. -The whistle's gone, and all the bacon's cold; -I must know somehow if he's on the line, -He could have bacon sandwich when he dine.' - -She cut the bread, and started, short of breath, -Up the canal now draining for the rail; -A poor old woman pitted against death, -Bringing her pennyworth of love for bail. -Wisdom, beauty, and love may not avail. -She was too late. 'Yes, he was here; oh, yes. -He chucked his job and went.' 'Where?' 'Home, I guess.' - -'Home, but he hasn't been home.' 'Well, he went. -Perhaps you missed him, mother.' 'Or perhaps -He took the field path yonder through the bent. -He very likely done that, don't he, chaps?' -The speaker tested both his trouser straps -And took his pick. 'He's in the town,' he said. -'He'll be all right, after a bit in bed.' - -She trembled down the high embankment's ridge -Glad, though too late; not yet too late, indeed. -For forty yards away, beyond the bridge, -Jimmy still drank, the devil still sowed seed. -'A bit in bed,' she thought, 'is what I need. -I'll go to "Bull and Boar" and rest a bit, -They've got a bench outside they'd let me sit.' - -Even as two soldiers on a fortress wall -See the bright fire streak of a coming shell. -Catch breath, and wonder 'Which way will it fall? -To you? to me? or will it all be well?' -Ev'n so stood life and death, and could not tell -Whether she'd go to th'inn and find her son, -Or take the field and let the doom be done. - -'No, not the inn,' she thought. 'People would talk. -I couldn't in the open daytime; no. -I'll just sit here upon the timber balk, -I'll rest for just a minute and then go.' -Resting, her old tired heart began to glow, -Glowed and gave thanks, and thought itself in clover, -'He's lost his job, so now she'll throw him over.' - -Sitting, she saw the rustling thistle-kex, -The picks flash bright above, the trollies tip. -The bridge-stone shining, full of silver specks, -And three swift children running down the dip. -A Stoke Saint Michael carter cracked his whip, -The water in the runway made its din. -She half heard singing coming from the inn. - -She turned, and left the inn, and took the path -And 'Brother Life, you lose,' said Brother Death, -'Even as the Lord of all appointed hath -In this great miracle of blood and breath.' -He doeth all things well as the book saith, -He bids the changing stars fulfil their turn, -His hand is on us when we least discern. - -Slowly she tottered, stopping with the stitch, -Catching her breath, 'O lawks, a dear, a dear. -How the poor tubings in my heart do twitch, -It hurts like the rheumatics very near.' -And every painful footstep drew her clear -From that young life she bore with so much pain. -She never had him to herself again. - -Out of the inn came Jimmy, red with drink, -Crying: 'I'll show her. Wait a bit. I'll show her. -You wait a bit. I'm not the kid you think. -I'm Jimmy Gurney, champion tupper-thrower, -When I get done with her you'll never know her, -Nor him you won't. Out of my way, you fowls, -Or else I'll rip the red things off your jowls.' - -He went across the fields to Plaister's End. -There was a lot of water in the brook, -Sun and white cloud and weather on the mend -For any man with any eyes to look. -He found old Callow's plough-bat, which he took, -'My innings now, my pretty dear,' said he. -'You wait a bit. I'll show you. Now you'll see.' - -Her chimney smoke was blowing blue and faint, -The wise duck shook a tail across the pool, -The blacksmith's shanty smelt of burning paint, -Four newly-tired cartwheels hung to cool. -He had loved the place when under Anna's rule. -Now he clenched teeth and flung aside the gate, -There at the door they stood. He grinned. 'Now wait.' - -Ern had just brought her in a wired hare, -She stood beside him stroking down the fur. -'Oh, Ern, poor thing, look how its eyes do stare,' -'It isn't it,' he answered. 'It's a her.' -She stroked the breast and plucked away a bur, -She kissed the pads, and leapt back with a shout, -'My God, he's got the spudder. Ern. Look out.' - -Ern clenched his fists. Too late. He felt no pain, -Only incredible haste in something swift, -A shock that made the sky black on his brain, -Then stillness, while a little cloud went drift. -The weight upon his thigh bones wouldn't lift; -Then poultry in a long procession came, -Grey-legged, doing the goose-step, eyes like flame. - -Grey-legged old cocks and hens sedate in age, -Marching with jerks as though they moved on springs, -With sidelong hate in round eyes red with rage, -And shouldered muskets clipped by jealous wings, -Then an array of horns and stupid things: -Sheep on a hill with harebells, hare for dinner. -'Hare.' A slow darkness covered up the sinner. - -'But little time is right hand fain of blow.' -Only a second changes life to death; -Hate ends before the pulses cease to go, -There is great power in the stop of breath. -There's too great truth in what the dumb thing saith, -Hate never goes so far as that, nor can. -'I am what life becomes. D'you hate me, man?' - -Hate with his babbling instant, red and damning, -Passed with his instant, having drunken red. -'You've killed him.' - 'No, I've not, he's only shamming. -Get up.' 'He can't.' 'O God, he isn't dead.' -'O God.' 'Here. Get a basin. Bathe his head. -Ernie, for God's sake, what are you playing at? -I only give him one like, with the bat.' - -Man cannot call the brimming instant back; -Time's an affair of instants spun to days; -If man must make an instant gold, or black, -Let him, he may, but Time must go his ways. -Life may be duller for an instant's blaze. -Life's an affair of instants spun to years, -Instants are only cause of all these tears. - -Then Anna screamed aloud. 'Help. Murder. Murder.' -'By God, it is,' he said. 'Through you, you slut.' -Backing, she screamed, until the blacksmith heard her. -'Hurry,' they cried, 'the woman's throat's being cut.' -Jim had his coat off by the water butt. -'He might come to,' he said, 'with wine or soup. -I only hit him once, like, with the scoop. - -Splash water on him, chaps. I only meant -To hit him just a clip, like, nothing more. -There. Look. He isn't dead, his eyelids went. -And he went down. O God, his head's all tore. -I've washed and washed: it's all one gob of gore. -He don't look dead to you? What? Nor to you? -Not kill, the clip I give him, couldn't do.' - -'God send; he looks damn bad,' the blacksmith said. -'Py Cot,' his mate said, 'she wass altogether; -She hass an illness look of peing ted.' -'Here. Get a glass,' the smith said, 'and a feather.' -'Wass you at fightings or at playings whether?' -'Here, get a glass and feather. Quick's the word.' -The glass was clear. The feather never stirred. - -'By God, I'm sorry, Jim. That settles it.' -'By God. I've killed him then.' 'The doctor might.' -'Try, if you like; but that's a nasty hit.' -'Doctor's gone by. He won't be back till night.' -'Py Cot, the feather was not looking right.' -'By Jesus, chaps, I never meant to kill 'un. -Only to bat. I'll go to p'leece and tell 'un. - -O Ern, for God's sake speak, for God's sake speak.' -No answer followed: Ern had done with dust, -'The p'leece is best,' the smith said, 'or a beak. -I'll come along; and so the lady must. -Evans, you bring the lady, will you just? -Tell 'em just how it come, lad. Come your ways; -And Joe, you watch the body where it lays.' - -They walked to town, Jim on the blacksmith's arm. -Jimmy was crying like a child, and saying, -'I never meant to do him any harm.' -His teeth went clack, like bones at murmurs playing, -And then he trembled hard and broke out praying, -'God help my poor old mother. If he's dead, -I've brought her my last wages home,' he said. - -He trod his last free journey down the street; -Treading the middle road, and seeing both sides, -The school, the inns, the butchers selling meat, -The busy market where the town divides. -Then past the tanpits full of stinking hides, -And up the lane to death, as weak as pith. -'By God, I hate this, Jimmy,' said the smith. - - - - - VI - - -Anna in black, the judge in scarlet robes, -A fuss of lawyers' people coming, going, -The windows shut, the gas alight in globes, -Evening outside, and pleasant weather blowing. -'They'll hang him?' 'I suppose so; there's no knowing.' -'A pretty piece, the woman, ain't she, John? -He killed the fellow just for carrying on.' - -'She give her piece to counsel pretty clear.' -'Ah, that she did, and when she stop she smiled.' -'She's had a-many men, that pretty dear; -She's drove a-many pretty fellows wild.' -'More silly idiots they to be beguiled.' -'Well, I don't know.' 'Well, I do. See her eyes? -Mystery, eh? A woman's mystery's lies.' - -'Perhaps.' 'No p'raps about it, that's the truth. -I know these women; they're a rotten lot.' -'You didn't use to think so in your youth.' -'No; but I'm wiser now, and not so hot. -Married or buried, _I_ say, wives or shot, -These unmanned, unattached Maries and Susans -Make life no better than a proper nuisance.' - -'Well, I don't know.' 'Well, if you don't you will.' -'I look on women as as good as men.' -'Now, that's the kind of talk that makes me ill. -When have they been as good? I ask you when?' -'Always they have.' 'They haven't. Now and then -P'raps one or two was neither hen nor fury.' -'One for your mother, that. Here comes the jury.' - -Guilty. Thumbs down. No hope. The judge passed sentence; -'A frantic passionate youth, unfit for life, -A fitting time afforded for repentance, -Then certain justice with a pitiless knife. -For her his wretched victim's widowed wife, -Pity. For her who bore him, pity. (Cheers.) -The jury were exempt for seven years.' - -All bowed; the Judge passed to the robing-room, -Dismissed his clerks, disrobed, and knelt and prayed -As was his custom after passing doom, -Doom upon life, upon the thing not made. -'O God, who made us out of dust, and laid -Thee in us bright, to lead us to the truth, -O God, have pity upon this poor youth. - -Show him Thy grace, O God, before he die; -Shine in his heart; have mercy upon me, -Who deal the laws men make to travel by -Under the sun upon the path to Thee; -O God Thou knowest I'm as blind as he, -As blind, as frantic, not so single, worse, -Only Thy pity spared me from the curse. - -Thy pity, and Thy mercy, God, did save, -Thy bounteous gifts, not any grace of mine, -From all the pitfalls leading to the grave, -From all the death-feasts with the husks and swine. -God, who hast given me all things, now make shine -Bright in this sinner's heart that he may see. -God, take this poor boy's spirit back to Thee.' - -Then trembling with his hands, for he was old, -He went to meet his college friend, the Dean, -The loiterers watched him as his carriage rolled. -'There goes the Judge,' said one, and one was keen: -'Hanging that wretched boy, that's where he's been.' -A policeman spat, two lawyers talked statistics, -'"Crime passionel" in Agricultural Districts.' - -'They'd oughtn't hang a boy': but one said 'Stuff. -This sentimental talk is rotten, rotten. -The law's the law and not half strict enough, -Forgers and murderers are misbegotten, -Let them be hanged and let them be forgotten. -A rotten fool should have a rotten end; -Mend them, you say? The rotten never mend.' - -And one 'Not mend? The rotten not, perhaps. -The rotting would; so would the just infected. -A week in quod has ruined lots of chaps -Who'd all got good in them till prison wrecked it.' -And one, 'Society must be protected.' -'He's just a kid. She trapped him.' 'No, she didden.' -'He'll be reprieved.' 'He mid be and he midden.' - -So the talk went; and Anna took the train, -Too sad for tears, and pale; a lady spoke -Asking if she were ill or suffering pain? -'Neither,' she said; but sorrow made her choke, -'I'm only sick because my heart is broke. -My friend, a man, my oldest friend here, died. -I had to see the man who killed him, tried. - -He's to be hanged. Only a boy. My friend. -I thought him just a boy; I didn't know. -And Ern was killed, and now the boy's to end, -And all because he thought he loved me so.' -'My dear,' the lady said; and Anna, 'Oh. -It's very hard to bear the ills men make, -He thought he loved, and it was all mistake.' - -'My dear,' the lady said; 'you poor, poor woman, -Have you no friends to go to?' 'I'm alone. -I've parents living, but they're both inhuman, -And none can cure what pierces to the bone. -I'll have to leave and go where I'm not known. -Begin my life again.' Her friend said 'Yes. -Certainly that. But leave me your address: -For I might hear of something; I'll enquire, -Perhaps the boy might be reprieved or pardoned. -Couldn't we ask the rector or the squire -To write and ask the Judge? He can't be hardened. -What do you do? Is it housework? Have you gardened? -Your hands are very white and soft to touch.' -'Lately I've not had heart for doing much.' - -So the talk passes as the train descends -Into the vale and halts and starts to climb -To where the apple-bearing country ends -And pleasant-pastured hills rise sweet with thyme, -Where clinking sheepbells make a broken chime -And sunwarm gorses rich the air with scent -And kestrels poise for mice, there Anna went. - -There, in the April, in the garden-close, -One heard her in the morning singing sweet, -Calling the birds from the unbudded rose, -Offering her lips with grains for them to eat. -The redbreasts come with little wiry feet, -Sparrows and tits and all wild feathery things, -Brushing her lifted face with quivering wings. - -Jimmy was taken down into a cell, -He did not need a hand, he made no fuss. -The men were kind 'for what the kid done ... well -The same might come to any one of us.' -They brought him bits of cake at tea time: thus -The love that fashioned all in human ken, -Works in the marvellous hearts of simple men. - -And in the nights (they watched him night and day) -They told him bits of stories through the grating, -Of how the game went at the football play, -And how the rooks outside had started mating. -And all the time they knew the rope was waiting, -And every evening friend would say to friend, -'I hope we've not to drag him at the end.' - -And poor old mother came to see her son, -'The Lord has gave,' she said, 'The Lord has took; -I loved you very dear, my darling one, -And now there's none but God where we can look. -We've got God's promise written in His Book, -He will not fail; but oh, it do seem hard.' -She hired a room outside the prison yard. - -'Where did you get the money for the room? -And how are you living, mother; how'll you live?' -'It's what I'd saved to put me in the tomb, -I'll want no tomb but what the parish give.' -'Mother, I lied to you that time, O forgive, -I brought home half my wages, half I spent, -And you went short that week to pay the rent. - -I went to see'r, I spent my money on her, -And you who bore me paid the cost in pain. -You went without to buy the clothes upon her: -A hat, a locket, and a silver chain. -O mother dear, if all might be again, -Only from last October, you and me; -O mother dear, how different it would be. - -We were so happy in the room together, -Singing at "Binger-Bopper," weren't us, just? -And going a-hopping in the summer weather, -And all the hedges covered white with dust, -And blackberries, and that, and traveller's trust. -I thought her wronged, and true, and sweet, and wise, -The devil takes sweet shapes when he tells lies. - -Mother, my dear, will you forgive your son?' -'God knows I do, Jim, I forgive you, dear; -You didn't know, and couldn't, what you done. -God pity all poor people suffering here, -And may His mercy shine upon us clear, -And may we have His Holy Word for mark, -To lead us to His Kingdom through the dark.' - -'Amen.' 'Amen,' said Jimmy; then they kissed. -The warders watched, the little larks were singing, -A plough team jangled, turning at the rist; -Beyond, the mild cathedral bells were ringing, -The elm-tree rooks were cawing at the springing: -O beauty of the time when winter's done, -And all the fields are laughing at the sun! - -'I s'pose they've brought the line beyond the Knapp?' -'Ah, and beyond the Barcle, so they say.' -'Hearing the rooks begin reminds a chap. -Look queer, the street will, with the lock away; -O God, I'll never see it.' 'Let us pray. -Don't think of that, but think,' the mother said, -'Of men going on long after we are dead. - -Red helpless little things will come to birth, -And hear the whistles going down the line, -And grow up strong and go about the earth, -And have much happier times than yours and mine; -And some day one of them will get a sign, -And talk to folk, and put an end to sin, -And then God's blessed kingdom will begin. - -God dropped a spark down into everyone, -And if we find and fan it to a blaze -It'll spring up and glow like--like the sun, -And light the wandering out of stony ways. -God warms His hands at man's heart when he prays, -And light of prayer is spreading heart to heart; -It'll light all where now it lights a part. - -And God who gave His mercies takes His mercies, -And God who gives beginning gives the end. -I dread my death; but it's the end of curses, -A rest for broken things too broke to mend. -O Captain Christ, our blessed Lord and Friend, -We are two wandered sinners in the mire, -Burn our dead hearts with love out of Thy fire. - -And when thy death comes, Master, let us bear it -As of Thy will, however hard to go; -Thy Cross is infinite for us to share it, -Thy help is infinite for us to know. -And when the long trumpets of the Judgment blow -May our poor souls be glad and meet agen, -And rest in Thee.' 'Say, "Amen," Jim.' 'Amen.' - -* * * * * - -There was a group outside the prison gate, -Waiting to hear them ring the passing bell, -Waiting as empty people always wait -For the strong toxic of another's hell. -And mother stood there, too, not seeing well, -Praying through tears to let His will be done, -And not to hide His mercy from her son. - -Talk in the little group was passing quick. -'It's nothing now to what it was, to watch.' -'Poor wretched kid, I bet he's feeling sick.' -'Eh? What d'you say, chaps? Someone got a match?' -'They draw a bolt and drop you down a hatch -And break your neck, whereas they used to strangle -In olden times, when you could see them dangle.' - -Some one said, 'Off hats' when the bell began. -Mother was whimpering now upon her knees. -A broken ringing like a beaten pan -It sent the sparrows wavering to the trees. -The wall-top grasses whickered in the breeze, -The broken ringing clanged, clattered and clanged -As though men's bees were swarming, not men hanged. - -Now certain Justice with the pitiless knife. -The white sick chaplain snuffling at the nose. -'I am the resurrection and the life.' -The bell still clangs, the small procession goes, -The prison warders ready ranged in rows. -'Now, Gurney, come, my dear; it's time,' they said. -And ninety seconds later he was dead. - -Some of life's sad ones are too strong to die, -Grief doesn't kill them as it kills the weak, -Sorrow is not for those who sit and cry -Lapped in the love of turning t'other cheek, -But for the noble souls austere and bleak -Who have had the bitter dose and drained the cup -And wait for Death face fronted, standing up. - -As the last man upon the sinking ship, -Seeing the brine creep brightly on the deck, -Hearing aloft the slatting topsails rip, -Ripping to rags among the topmast's wreck, -Yet hoists the new red ensign without speck, -That she, so fair, may sink with colours flying, -So the old widowed mother kept from dying. - -She tottered home, back to the little room, -It was all over for her, but for life; -She drew the blinds, and trembled in the gloom; -'I sat here thus when I was wedded wife; -Sorrow sometimes, and joy; but always strife. -Struggle to live except just at the last, -O God, I thank Thee for the mercies past. - -Harry, my man, when we were courting; eh... -The April morning up the Cony-gree. -How grand he looked upon our wedding day. -"I wish we'd had the bells," he said to me; -And we'd the moon that evening, I and he, -And dew come wet, oh, I remember how, -And we come home to where I'm sitting now. - -And he lay dead here, and his son was born here; -He never saw his son, his little Jim. -And now I'm all alone here, left to mourn here, -And there are all his clothes, but never him. -He's down under the prison in the dim, -With quicklime working on him to the bone, -The flesh I made with many and many a groan. - -Oh, how his little face come, with bright hair, -Dear little face. We made this room so snug; -He sit beside me in his little chair, -I give him real tea sometimes in his mug. -He liked the velvet in the patchwork rug. -He used to stroke it, did my pretty son, -He called it Bunny, little Jimmie done. - -And then he ran so, he was strong at running, -Always a strong one, like his dad at that. -In summertimes I done my sewing sunning, -And he'd be sprawling, playing with the cat. -And neighbours brought their knitting out to chat -Till five o'clock; he had his tea at five; -How sweet life was when Jimmy was alive.' - -* * * * * - -Darkness and midnight, and the midnight chimes. -Another four-and-twenty hours begin, -Darkness again, and many, many times, -The alternating light and darkness spin -Until the face so thin is still more thin, -Gazing each earthly evening wet or fine -For Jimmy coming from work along the line. - -Over her head the Chester wires hum, -Under the bridge the rocking engines flash. -'He's very late this evening, but he'll come -And bring his little packet full of cash -(Always he does) and supper's cracker hash, -That is his favourite food excepting bacon. -They say my boy was hanged; but they're mistaken. - -And sometimes she will walk the cindery mile, -Singing, as she and Jimmy used to do, -Singing 'The parson's dog lep over a stile,' -Along the path where water lilies grow. -The stars are placid on the evening's blue, -Burning like eyes so calm, so unafraid, -On all that God has given and man has made. - -Burning they watch, and mothlike owls come out, -The redbreast warbles shrilly once and stops; -The homing cowman gives his dog a shout, -The lamps are lighted in the village shops. -Silence; the last bird passes; in the copse -The hazels cross the moon, a nightjar spins, -Dew wets the grass, the nightingale begins. - -Singing her crazy song the mother goes, -Singing as though her heart were full of peace, -Moths knock the petals from the dropping rose, -Stars make the glimmering pool a golden fleece, -The moon droops west, but still she does not cease, -The little mice peep out to hear her sing, -Until the inn-man's cockerel shakes his wing. - -And in the sunny dawns of hot Julys, -The labourers going to meadow see her there. -Rubbing the sleep out of their heavy eyes, -They lean upon the parapet to stare; -They see her plaiting basil in her hair, -Basil, the dark red wound-wort, cops of clover, -The blue self-heal and golden Jacks of Dover. - -Dully they watch her, then they turn to go -To that high Shropshire upland of late hay; -Her singing lingers with them as they mow, -And many times they try it, now grave, now gay, -Till, with full throat, over the hills away, -They lift it clear; oh, very clear it towers -Mixed with the swish of many falling flowers. - - - - -'The Widow in the Bye Street' first appeared in _The English Review_ for -February 1912. I thank the editor and proprietors of the _Review_ for -permitting me to reprint it here. - -The persons and events described in the poem are entirely imaginary, and -no reference is made or intended to any living person. - -JOHN MASEFIELD. -10*th May* 1912. - - - - -THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - - - JOHN MASEFIELD - - - THE EVERLASTING MERCY - - Fifth Impression. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net - - - SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS - -"Mr Masefield is to be congratulated on a remarkable achievement--a -vital portrait of a man, the drama of a great spiritual conquest, and -many passages of high beauty."--_Spectator_. - -"This is probably the most important addition to English religious -poetry since Francis Thompson wrote 'The Hound of Heaven.' 'The -Everlasting Mercy' is the story of a conversion; not the 'interesting' -conversion of some cultured and introspective Agnostic, full of wise -saws and modern instances, but the sensational, primitive, catastrophic -conversion of a village wastrel, violent alike in body, mind and soul--a -drunkard, poacher, bully and libertine.... In it Mr Masefield has -accomplished two separate things. He has written a superb poem, swift -in its pace and vivid in its phrasing, and produced as well a -psychological document of surpassing interest.... He has brought the -flaming torch of beauty to light the dry processes of the religious -psychologist."--EVELYN UNDERHILL in _The Daily News_. - -"Here, beyond question, in 'The Everlasting Mercy,' is a great poem, as -true to the essentials of its ancient art as it is astoundingly modern -in its method; a poem, too, which 'every clergyman in the country ought -to read as a revelation of the heathenism still left in the land.' ... -Its technical force is on a level with its high, inspiring thought. It -makes the reader think; it goads him to emotion; and it leaves him alive -with a fresh appreciation of the wonderful capacity of human nature to -receive new influences and atone for old and apparently ineradicable -wrongs."--ARTHUR WAUGH in _The Daily Chronicle_. - - - - JOHN MASEFIELD - - THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT - - Library Edition, 3s. 6d. net; paper wrappers, 1s. 6d. net - Second Impression - -"Fine, nervous, dramatic English. Words which eat into the soul, which -have a meaning, which are revelatory of character. A fine virility -about the whole play and its conception. An altogether admirable piece -of writing which fully justifies Mr Masefield's real literary -distinction."--_Observer_. - -"In this Roman tragedy, while we admire its closely knit structure, -dramatic effectiveness, and atmosphere of reality ... the warmth and -colour of the diction are the most notable things.... He knows the art -of phrasing; he has the instinct for and by them."--_Athenaeum_. - -"The talk of Pompey, of Domitius, of Acilius, is not that of great -lords, but rather of men like Hawkins and Drake. This is the result of -Mr Masefield's imaginative handling. He sees them so, and so they live. -They live indeed. Their characters are clear and bold; they say nothing -but what reveals them and helps to make the tragedy a rich as well as a -moving thing. It is poetry. 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The characters are intensely alive, the situations are -handled by a master hand, and the whole play is pregnant with that high -and solemn pathos which is the gift of the born writer of -tragedies."--_Morning Post_. - - - - SIDGWICK & JACKSON'S MODERN DRAMA - - -"Messrs Sidgwick & Jackson are choosing their plays -excellently."--_Saturday Review_. - -"The distinction, which is quite appreciable, of being included in the -series of modern plays published by Messrs Sidgwick & Jackson, in which -there is nothing bad."--_Manchester Guardian_. - - -THREE PLAYS BY GRANVILLE BARKER: - -"The Marrying of Ann Leete," "The Voysey Inheritance," and "Waste." 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With a Frontispiece and Music -to "Pierrot's Serenade," by JOSEPH MOORAT. Fcap. 4to, 5s. net. Theatre -Edition, crown 8vo, wrappers, 1s. net. - -"A very charming love tale, which works slowly to a climax of great and -touching beauty."--_Daily News_. - - -CHAINS. A Play in Four Acts. - -By ELIZABETH BAKER. Crown 8vo, cloth, 1s. 6d. net; paper wrappers, 1s. -net. - -Second Impression. - -"Nothing could be more free from stage artifices than Miss Baker's play. -It is simplicity itself, both in its construction and its dialog.... But -it is just the sort of play that one likes to buy and read, for it is -real and alive, and a play full of ideas."--_The Daily Mail_. - - -THE NEW SIN. A Play in Three Acts. - -By BASIL MACDONALD HASTINGS. 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