Page:Demeter and other poems (IA demeterotherpoem00tennrich).pdf/74

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60
THE RING
September birthday with your nurse, and felt
An icy breath play on me, while I stoopt
To take and kiss the ring.

Miriam.
This very ring
Io t'amo?

Father.
Yes, for some wild hope was mine
That, in the misery of my married life,
Miriam your Mother might appear to me.
She came to you, not me. The storm, you hear
Far-off, is Muriel—your step-mother's voice.

Miriam.
Vext, that you thought my Mother came to me?
Or at my crying 'Mother?' or to find