16
ENOCH ARDEN.
(Since Enoch left he had not look’d upon her),
Smote him, as having kept aloof so long.
‘Surely,’ said Philip, ‘I may see her now,
May be some little comfort;’ therefore went,
Past thro’ the solitary room in front,
Paused for a moment at an inner door,
Then struck it thrice, and, no one opening,
Enter’d; but Annie, seated with her grief,
Fresh from the burial of her little one,
Cared not to look on any human face,
But turn’d her own toward the wall and wept.
Then Philip standing up said falteringly
‘Annie, I came to ask a favour of you.’
Smote him, as having kept aloof so long.
‘Surely,’ said Philip, ‘I may see her now,
May be some little comfort;’ therefore went,
Past thro’ the solitary room in front,
Paused for a moment at an inner door,
Then struck it thrice, and, no one opening,
Enter’d; but Annie, seated with her grief,
Fresh from the burial of her little one,
Cared not to look on any human face,
But turn’d her own toward the wall and wept.
Then Philip standing up said falteringly
‘Annie, I came to ask a favour of you.’
He spoke; the passion in her moan’d reply
‘Favour from one so sad and so forlorn
As I am!’ half abash’d him; yet unask’d,
His bashfulness and tenderness at war,
He set himself beside her, saying to her:
‘Favour from one so sad and so forlorn
As I am!’ half abash’d him; yet unask’d,
His bashfulness and tenderness at war,
He set himself beside her, saying to her:
