264
MARY.
And how things fare with him I guess in vain,
But oft I picture him within my mind,
Now old and failing as I am myself,
With no one by to comfort him with talk
(He that was kind and good to all the world)
Of things that were, and better things that shall be;
And then I think of all that I could do
To cheer him if I were but near, until
(It is an old woman's thought) I feel as if—
Knew I but where to seek him—I could start
That moment, and walk on until the shoes
Wore off my feet, nor stop until I reached him,
Trav. And when you met, perhaps you might not know him.
He must be changed.
Mary.He was not one to change,
Yet years and troubles may have told upon him.
Trav. They must have told a heavy tale, indeed,
Since all this while you have not known me—Mary!
(He holds out his arms to her.)
Oh, my dear sister, I have found it hard
To make myself awhile thus strange unto you,
For I came here to seek you; you are now
The only one I have,—the rest I love
Are neither in the New World nor the Old,
But in another, safer far, and happier;
Yet I was restless wanting them, and thought
I will go forth, if yet my sister lives,
Or William, there is something left for me.
But, when at first I saw you did not know me,
But oft I picture him within my mind,
Now old and failing as I am myself,
With no one by to comfort him with talk
(He that was kind and good to all the world)
Of things that were, and better things that shall be;
And then I think of all that I could do
To cheer him if I were but near, until
(It is an old woman's thought) I feel as if—
Knew I but where to seek him—I could start
That moment, and walk on until the shoes
Wore off my feet, nor stop until I reached him,
Trav. And when you met, perhaps you might not know him.
He must be changed.
Mary.He was not one to change,
Yet years and troubles may have told upon him.
Trav. They must have told a heavy tale, indeed,
Since all this while you have not known me—Mary!
(He holds out his arms to her.)
Oh, my dear sister, I have found it hard
To make myself awhile thus strange unto you,
For I came here to seek you; you are now
The only one I have,—the rest I love
Are neither in the New World nor the Old,
But in another, safer far, and happier;
Yet I was restless wanting them, and thought
I will go forth, if yet my sister lives,
Or William, there is something left for me.
But, when at first I saw you did not know me,
