Pickthorn Manor: 49

Amy Lowell

She smiled a little wan and ravelled smile,
 Then came to him and on his shoulder laid
Her head, and they two rested there awhile,
 Each taking comfort.  Not a word was said.
But when he put his hand upon her breast
 And felt her beating heart, and with his lips
    Sought solace for her and himself.  She started
 As one sharp lashed with whips,
And pushed him from her, moaning, his dumb quest
Denied and shuddered from.  And he, distrest,
    Loosened his wife, and long they sat there, parted.

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