Pickthorn Manor: 34

Amy Lowell

Revulsed emotion set her body shaking
 As though she had an ague.  Gervase swore,
Jumped to his feet in such a dreadful taking
 His face was ghastly with the look it wore.
Crouching and slipping through the trees, a man
 In worn, blue livery, a humpbacked thing,
    Made off.  But turned every few steps to gaze
 At Eunice, and to fling
Vile looks and gestures back.  “The ruffian!
By Christ’s Death!  I will split him to a span
    Of hog’s thongs.”  She grasped at his sleeve, “Gervase!

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