But stirred not thence — and all in vain 



He called, caressed her, would have led — 



Tried threats — then coaxing words again — 

 Brought food — she turned away her head. 



So with kind violence at last 



He bore her home : with gentle care 



In her old shelter tied her fast, 



Placed food beside, and left her there. 



But ere the hour of rest, again 



He visited the captive's shed, 

 And there the cord lay, gnawed in twain — 



The food untasted — she was fled. 



And, vexed, he cried, " Perverse old creature ! 



Well, let her go, I've done my best." 

 But there was something in his nature, 



A feeling would not let him rest. 



So, with the early light, once more 

 Towards the burial-ground went he ; 



And there he found her as before, 

 But not as then stretched quietly. 



For she had worked the long night through, 

 In the strong impulse of despair, 



Down, down into the grave — and now, 

 Panting and weak, still laboured there. 



'59 



