She never closed her eyes that night: And she was stirring, ere the light; And while her husband lay at rest, She left his side, and quickly dressed; And stole downstairs, as though in fear That he should chance to wake, and hear. And still the stars were burning bright, As she passed out into the night; And all the dewy air was sweet With flowers that grew about her feet, Where he, for her, when they were wed, Had digged and sown a wallflower-bed: And on the rich, deep, mellow scent A gust of memories came and went, As, dreaming of those old glad hours, She stooped to pluck a bunch of flowers, To lay upon the flowerless grave That held his heart beside the wave. Though, like a troop of ghosts in white, The headstones watched in cold starlight, As, by the dead girl’s grave she knelt, No fear in her full heart she felt: But hurried home, when she had laid Her offering on the turf, afraid That he should wake, and find her gone: And still the stars in heaven shone, When into bed again she crept, And lay beside him, while he slept And when day came, upon his hair, The warm light fell: and young and fair, He looked again to her kind eyes That watched him till ’twas time to rise. And, every day, as he went by The churchyard-gate with downcast eye, He saw fresh blooms upon the grave That held his heart beside the wave: And, wondering, he was glad to find That any living soul was kind To that dead girl who died the death Of shame for his sake: and the breath Of those fresh flowers to him was sweet, As he trudged home with laggard feet, Still wondering who could be her friend. He never knew, until the end, When, in the churchyard by the wave, He stood beside another grave: And, as the priest’s last words were said, He turned, and lifting up his head, He saw the bunch of flowers was dead Upon the dead girl’s grave; and felt The truth shoot through his heart, and melt The frost of icy bitterness, And flood his heart with warm distress: And, kneeling by his dead wife’s grave, To her, at last, her hour he gave. That night, she dreamt he, too, had died, And they were sleeping, side by side. THE MACHINE