Iii

Yet from her eyes presage of victory Looked steadfast out at mine. It is not to be thought of (said her eyes) That only a foul blotch the sun may shine On England, through low poisonous thick skies! Never, O never again This pain, this pain! Else from that foreign earth his bones would rise And thrust in anger at the bitter skies. It is not to be thought of that such prayer Should fall unheeded back through heavy air. But I have heard, in the night I have heard, When not a leaf in all the orchard stirred, And even the water of the bourne hung still, And the old twitching, creaking house was still, And all was still, What was it I heard? It could not be his voice, come from so far; I know 'twas not a bird. It was his voice, or that lone watchful star Creeping above the casement bar, Saying: Fear thou no ill, No ill! Then all the silence was an echoing round, The water and dumb trees their antique murmur found, And clear as music came the repeated Sound: Fear thou no ill, no ill!

Was it her eyes or her tongue told me this?