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And once her both arms suddenly
Round Mary's neck she flung.
And her heart panted, and she felt
The words upon her tongue.
She felt them coming, but no power
Had she the words to smother;
And with a kind of shriek she cried,
"Oh Christ! you're like your Mother!'
So gentle Ellen now no more
Could make this sad house cheary;
And Mary's melancholy ways
Drove Edward wild and weary.
Lingering he rais'd his latch at eve.
Though tired in heart and limb:
He lov'd no other place, and yet
Home was no home to him.
One evening he took up a book,
And nothing in it read;
Then flung it down, and groaning cried,
Oh! Heaven! that I were dead.
