NOTABLE BOOKS. 



627 



for his lost love. He goes back, like 

 Enoch Arden, comes to her house and 

 looks in the window. He does not see 

 Mary there, so he creeps inside the house 

 by stealth and leaves a scarf, an old 

 keepsake, in Mary's room, so that she 

 will know he has returned, and 

 then goes to await her at the 

 trysting place in the " daffodil 

 fields." She finds the scarf and comes 

 to meet him ; they renew their love, and 

 Mary goes to live with Michael. The}' 

 are happy at first, then Michael, in a 

 mood of weakness and remorse, goes to 

 Lion to offer to give him back his wife. 

 Lion, in a fit of anger, torn by passion 

 and outraged honour, fights with 

 ]\Iichael, and they kill each other in the 

 " daffodil fields." The tragedy ends 

 with stanzas that bring Mary to her 

 dead and in mere}' grant her release 

 from sorrow. 



" They left her with her dead ; the}- 



could not choose 

 But grant the spirit burning in her face 

 Rights that their pity urged them to 



refuse. 

 They did her sorrow and her dead a 



grace. 

 All night they heard her passing foot- 

 steps trrce 

 Down to the garden from the room of 



death. 

 The}- heard her singing there, lowly, 



with gentle breath. 



To the cool darkness full of sleeping 



flowers. 

 Then back, still singing soft, with quiet 



tread. 

 But at the dawn her singing gathered 



powers 

 Like' to the dying swan who lifts his 



head . . . , , , , , 



On Eastnor, lifts it singing, dabbled 



red, 

 Singing the Glory m his tumbling mind, 

 Before the doors burst in, before death 



strikes him blind. 



So triumphing her song of love began 

 Ringing across the meadows like old 



Sweetened by poets to the help of man 

 Unconquered in the eternal overthrow ; 



Like a great trumpet from the long ago 

 Her singing towered ; all the valley 



heard, 

 Men jingling down to meadow stopped 



their teams and stirred. 



And they, the Occleves, hurried to the 

 door 



And burst it fearing ; there the singer 

 lay 



Drooped at her lover's bedside on the 

 floor. 



Singing her passionate last of life away. 



White flowers had fallen from a black- 

 thorn spray 



Over her loosened hair. Pale flowers of 

 spring 



Filled the white room of death ; they 

 covered everything. 



Primroses, daffodils, and cuckoo flowers. 

 She bowed her singing head on Michael's 



breast. 

 ' Oh, it was sweet,' she cried, ' that love 



of ours. 

 You were the dearest, sweet ; I loved 



}'ou best. 

 Beloved, m}- beloved, let me rest 

 By you forever, little Michael mine. 

 Now the great hour is stricken and the 



bread and wine 



' Broken and split ; and now the hom- 

 ing birds 



Draw to a covert, ■Michael ; T to you. 



Burv us two together,' came her words. 



The dropping petals fell about the two. 



Her heart had broken ; she was dead. 

 They drew 



Her gentle head aside ; they found it 

 pressed 



Against the broidered 'kerchief spread 

 on Michael's breast. 



The one that bore her name in Michael's 



hair, 

 Given so long before. They let her lie. 

 When the dim moon, died out upon the 



air, 

 And happy sunlight coloured all the 



sky. 

 The last cock crowed for morning ; 



carts went bv ; 

 Smoke rose from cottage chimneys ; 



from the byre 

 The }-ukes went clanknig b\-, to dairy, 



through the mire." 



