Archibald Lowell, owner of the _Times_ Lived six months of the year at Sunnyside, His Gothic castle near LeRoy, so named Because no sun was in him, it may be. His wife was much away when on this earth At cures, in travel, fighting psychic ills, Approaching madness, dying nerves. They said Her heart was starved for living with a man So cold and silent. Thirty years she lived Bound to this man, in restless agony, And as she could not free her life from his, Nor keep it living with him, on a day She stuck a gas hose in her mouth and drank Her lungs full of the lethal stuff and died. That was the very day the hunter found Elenor Murray's body near the river. A servant saw this Mrs. Lowell lying A copy of the _Times_ clutched in her hand, Which published that a slip of paper found In Elenor Murray's pocket had these words "To be brave and not to flinch." And was she brave, And nerved to end it by these words of Elenor? But Archibald, the husband, could not bear To have the death by suicide made known. He laid the body out, as if his wife Had gone to bed as usual, turned a jet And left it, just as if his wife had failed To fully turn it, then went in the room; Then called the servants, did not know that one Had seen her with the _Times_ clutched in her hand. He thought the matter hidden. Merival, All occupied with Elenor Murray's death Gave to a deputy the Lowell inquest. But later what this servant saw was told To Merival. And now no more alone Than when his wife lived, Lowell passed the days At Sunnyside, as he had done for years. He sat alone, and paced the rooms alone, With hands behind him clasped, in fear and wonder Of life and what life is. He rode about, And viewed his blooded cattle on the hills. But what were all these rooms and acres to him With no face near him but the servants, gardeners? Sometimes he wished he had a child to draw Upon his fabulous income, growing more Since all his life was centered in the _Times_ To swell its revenues, and in the process His spirit was more fully in the _Times_ Than in his body. There were eyes who saw How deftly was his spirit woven in it Until it was a scarf to bind and choke The public throat, or stifle honest thought Like a soft pillow offered for the head, But used to smother. There were eyes who saw The working of its ways emasculate, Its tones of gray, where flame had been the thing, Its timorous steps, while spying on the public, To learn the public's thought. Its cautious pauses, With foot uplifted, ears pricked up to hear A step fall, twig break. Platitudes in progress-- With sugar coat of righteousness and order, Respectability.