Page:Demeter and other poems (IA demeterotherpoem00tennrich).pdf/95

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THE RING
81
I kept it as a sacred amuletAbout me,—gone! and gone in that embrace!Then, hurrying home, I found her not in houseOr garden—up the tower—an icy airFled by me.—There, the chest was open—allThe sacred relics tost about the floor—Among them Muriel lying on her face—I raised her, call'd her 'Muriel. Muriel wake!'The fatal ring lay near her; the glazed eyeGlared at me as in horror. Dead! I tookAnd chafed the freezing hand. A red mark ranAll round one finger pointed straight, the restWere crumpled inwards. Dead!—and maybe stungWith some remorse, had stolen, worn the ring—Then torn it from her finger, or as if—For never had I seen her show remorse—As if—
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