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1861–1923

iv

Maurice Henry Hewlett

When I was sure I sat down quiet In the deep shade, And if my heart was all in riot I was not afraid.

I did not think, nor say a pray'r, But lookt straight before me, And felt that Someone else stood there With hands held o'er me.

I thought His peace blest my increase; But then, as it seem'd, A shadow made my joy to cease, And the day was dimm'd.

I shiver'd as if one a knife Should pull forth of the sheath. I think just then the Lord of Life Gave way to Him of Death.

As one bestead with gossamer-thread I pluckt at my eyes To catch again the glory shed, The hope, the load, the prize;

But no more hands invisible Held like a shade o'er me, And there seem'd little enough to tell My husband momently.

The long forenoon my thought I held, And yet all thro’ it The wires all England over shrill'd, And I never knew it!

In a high muse I nurst my news All the forenoon, While England braced her limbs and thews To a marching tune.

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iv · Maurice Henry Hewlett · Poetry Cove