Home to his memories for a month of pain, Each moment like a devil with a tongue, Urging him, "Set her free," or "Try again," Or "Kill that man and stamp him into dung." "See her," he cried. He took his horse and swung Out on the road to her; the rain was falling; Her dropping house-eaves splashed him when he knocked there, calling. Drowned yellow jasmine dripped; his horse’s flanks Steamed, and dark runnels on his yellow hair Streaked the groomed surface into blotchy ranks. The noise of water dropping filled the air. He knocked again; but there was no one there; No one within, the door was locked, no smoke Came from the chimney stacks, no clock ticked, no one spoke. Only the water dripped and dribble-dripped, And gurgled through the rain-pipe to the butt; Drops, trickling down the windows paused or slipped; A wet twig scraked as though the glass were cut. The blinds were all drawn down, the windows shut. No one was there. Across the road a shawl Showed at a door a space; a woman gave a call. "They’re gone away," she cried. "They’re gone away. Been gone a matter of a week." Where to? The woman thought to Wales, but could not say, Nor if she planned returning; no one knew. She looked at Lion sharply; then she drew The half-door to its place and passed within, Saying she hoped the rain would stop and spring begin. Lion rode home. A month went by, and now Winter was gone; the myriad shoots of green Bent to the wind, like hair, upon the plough, And up from withered leaves came celandine. And sunlight came, though still the air was keen, So that the first March market was most fair, And Lion rode to market, having business there. And in the afternoon, when all was done, While Lion waited idly near the inn, Watching the pigeons sidling in the sun, As Jim the ostler put his gelding in, He heard a noise of rioting begin Outside the yard, with catcalls; there were shouts Of "Occleve. Lion Occleve," from a pack of louts, Who hung about the courtyard-arch, and cried, "Yah, Occleve, of The Roughs, the married man, Occleve, who had the bed and not the bride." At first without the arch; but some began To sidle in, still calling; children ran To watch the baiting; they were farmer’s leavings Who shouted thus, men cast for drunkenness and thievings. Lion knew most of them of old; he paid No heed to them, but turned his back and talked To Jim, of through-pin in his master’s jade, And how no horse-wounds should be stuped or caulked. The rabble in the archway, not yet baulked, Came crowding nearer, and the boys began, "Who was it took your mistress, master married man?" "Who was it, master, took your wife away?" "I wouldn’t let another man take mine." "She had two husbands on her wedding day." "See at a blush: he blushed as red as wine." "She’d ought a had a cart-whip laid on fine." The farmers in the courtyard watched the baiting, Grinning, the barmaids grinned above the window grating.