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

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