Widow La Rue has returned And is rocking on the porch-- What is about to happen? For last night the phantom of the old soldier Appeared to her again-- It followed her to the house of her friend, And appeared again. But more than ever was it her husband, With the iris of his eyes so black, And the white of his eyes so china-blue. And while she thinks of it, And wonders what is about to happen, She hears laughter, And looking up, beholds her daughter And the forbidden lover. * * * * * And then the daughter and her husband Come to the porch and the daughter says "We have just been married in the village, mother; Will you forgive us? This is your son; you must kiss your son." And Widow La Rue from her chair arises And calmly takes her child in her arms, And clasps his hand. And after gazing upon him Imperturbably as Clytemnestra looked Upon returning Agamemnon, With a light in her eyes which neither fathomed, She kissed him, And in a calm voice blessed them. Then sent her daughter, singing, On an errand back to the village To market for dinner, saying: "We'll talk over plans, my dear." V And the young husband Rocks on the porch without a thought Of the lightning about to strike. And like Clytemnestra, Widow La Rue Enters the house. And while he is rocking, with all his spirit in a rythmic rapture, The Widow La Rue takes a seat in the room By a window back of the chair where he rocks, And drawing the shade She speaks: "These two nights past I have seen the phantom of the old soldier Who haunts the midnights Of this summer loneliness. And I knew that a doom was at hand. ... You have married my daughter, and this is the doom. ... O, God in heaven!" Then a horror as of a writhing whiteness Winds out of the July glare And stops the flow of his blood, As he hears from the re-echoing room The voice of Widow La Rue Moving darkly between banks Of delirious fear and woe!