The Gift of Song, 99 



Were they two children of the village, who, still fair 

 and young, crossed the dark river hand in hand ? Was 

 he a Cavalier, who burnt his heart out in a hopeless 

 cause ? Did the news of Naseby pale her cheek, or 

 silver ere its time her auburn hair ? 



Did he pass unscathed the perils of the field to fall 

 with Keymiss in the storming, when he and his handful 

 of heroes held in vain the fortress down the river, 

 whose roofless ruin, now a very bovver of green, looks 

 down into the wandering Wye ? 



And had he long to wait upon 'the other side'? 

 Did she climb alone this steep path between the 

 hedgerow's, day by day with slower pace, until she 

 came no more to grieve over that dear, dead dust 

 beneath the turf? 



Perhaps there was the same soft scent of roses in 

 the air, the same sweet woodbine incense floating in 

 the lane, when at last they bore her gently up this 

 narrow way, and laid her sadly at his side — one grave, 

 one stone, and now, one epitaph. 



His memory is lost ; his deeds, his very name for- 

 gotten. No note remains, except the link with her in 

 the eloquent silence of that single line — 



AND * ONE * SWEET • SISTER ' ALSO. 



