64 BELLWORT. 



" Come, tell me, child, the sun is high — 

 Do chills oppress thee now ?" 



The boy glanced wistfully about 

 The damp and gloomy place, 



Then at the warm bright sun without, 

 Then in the old mans face. 



A moment shook his wasted frame 



As by a palsy touch — 

 The boy, half-whispering, nearer came — 



" I've often heard of such ; 

 'Tis said that when a foot is press'd 



On grave that we must fill, 

 Recoils the living human breast, 



Recoils with sudden chill." 



" Now get thee hence," the old man cried 



" Thou bringest little cheer" — 

 And then he thrust the boy aside 



As with a deadly fear, 

 Who wondering cast his eyes about 



To drink in life and air — 

 Then burst his lips in one wild shout 



That both were buoyant there. 



Three days from thence a mound of earth 



The cross-road marked anew — 

 And children staid their voice of mirth 



When they beside it drew ; 

 Unhallowed though the sleeper's rest, 



Where men pass to and fro — 

 Yet e'en the rudest foot is press'd 



Aside from him below. 



