The Story
of Saville
And heard with uneager impassive face the words of the surgeon bland:
There was every warrant for deeming the eyeballs’ nubilous blur
A mere superficial obstruction; he would confident even aver
They should see complete restoration; and Saville gave sign of no stir
In her pulse at this gospel of light to him, of dark everlasting to her,
And never her fingers faltered through many a day and night
To bathe with lustral lotions and to number the drops aright.
And as one death-doomed by a mortal ill, knowing his sojourn is brief,
Wastes never the precious moments in useless repining and grief,
But rather endeavors to sweeten each hour, to make its scarce-hoped-for boon
Something to sweetly recall ’mid the dark he reluctant must enter so soon,
So Saville grudged every atom of time she did not with Kyrle commune.
She little had practiced the ways of the world, this cloistered immured Saville,
