Page:Enoch Arden, etc - Tennyson - 1864.djvu/43

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ENOCH ARDEN.
27
And one, in whom all evil fancies clungLike serpent eggs together, laughinglyWould hint at worse in either. Her own sonWas silent, tho’ he often look’d his wish;But evermore the daughter prest upon herTo wed the man so dear to all of themAnd lift the household out of poverty;And Philip’s rosy face contracting grewCareworn and wan; and all these things fell on herSharp as reproach.
At last one night it chancedThat Annie could not sleep, but earnestlyPray’d for a sign ‘my Enoch is he gone?’Then compass’d round by the blind wall of nightBrook’d not the expectant terror of her heart,Started from bed, and struck herself a light,Then desperately seized the holy Book,Suddenly set it wide to find a sign,Suddenly put her finger on the text,
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